Dark Falls
by jpowers.illustration
Summary: Teenager, Amanda Benson, is reluctant to move to the new town of Dark Falls. Is the new Benson home haunted? Or are even more sinister forces at work? Based on the very first Goosebumps book, "Welcome to Dead House", completely re-imagined for mature audiences.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

For the record, I never wanted to move. I was perfectly fine with our little house on Holly Avenue in Pine Valley. Okay, it had become a little more crowded over the summer with Dad being home so much, but no teenager should have to pack up her things, say goodbye to her friends and move to a whole new town for her last year of high school. I was excited to graduate with my friends next year, to go to prom with people I knew, even see the same old teachers at Pine Valley High School. Stick with the evil you know.

But as the summer was beginning to wind down, I found myself in the back our stuffy Plymouth Voyager headed northeast to the town of Dark Falls. The back row of seats was folded down to make room for a few more boxes, which put Josh and the dog, right next to me for the entire ride. Josh is my brother, younger by six years, and attached at the hip to our overly energetic eight year old Jack Russell terrier mix. PD, or Petey, as his name often came out sounding like, was little more than a mutt. But Josh would be sure to correct you if you ever said otherwise.

"He is a Jack Russell mix," he would always chime in, though he had no other suggestion as to what the dog was mixed with. Most of the time, I would say he was part squirrel for how much time he spent zipping around like some bat out of hell. Josh named the dog shortly after we brought him home.

"We are getting a new pet dog today," my father said to Josh, only three years old at the time.

"Pet dog?" he replied quizzically.

My parents both assured him, that yes it was a pet dog. And even after the yipping little puppy, barely large enough to carry around in a coffee mug, came home with us, Josh would still point and ask, "Pet dog?"

At first we weren't sure if he was asking whether it was a pet dog, or if he was asking for permission to pet the dog. But after the hundredth time of hearing the little guy point and say, "Pet dog", the name sort of stuck. Yes, my family owns a dog whose name is literally, Pet Dog. I was rather happy when we just began calling him PD for short, and soon enough that started to sound more like a real name, but my parents found it a funny enough anecdote that it would get dragged out at more than one social gathering.

We passed another sign counting down the miles to Dark Falls as PD hopped back and forth over Josh or my lap, racing between the van's windows to ensure he didn't miss a single view. He wasn't always so insufferable on long car rides, but you would have thought we were moving to the vet. I guess it just goes to show that a few of us in the van that day were not too happy about having to move away.

"We're almost there," my dad said for the third time in the past two hours. I wasn't sure if he was saying it to reassure us, the dog, or just remind us of our impending doom. Heaven forbid we actually forget that we left everything behind to move to some shit-hole town none of us had even heard of three months ago.

"Why can't we go back home?" Josh asked, also for the third time in recent memory. If there was one thing my brother had learned to excel at by the age of eleven, it was the art of complaining. That kid could complain about anything. And to be honest, I don't know how my parents put up with it most of the time, but in the last few months, he was pulling at the last few straws.

"That's enough, Joshua!" my mother half-turned in her seat. Ouch, you knew she was ticked when you were getting the full name treatment.

Usually at this point, Josh would only ramp up his whining, but he just zipped it. He knew Mom meant business. The stress of the summer was starting to show on both of my parents by that point, and we had already both been on the tail end of a few harsh words to know not to push back too hard. My father shifted in the driver's seat. Hopefully he was right about almost being there. We were all tired of being cooped up in the van all day. I looked at my father as he glanced back at us in the rearview mirror. Before that summer, I wouldn't have thought of him as being middle aged, but it was certainly starting to show. Lines raked across his face that had never noticed before, stretching across a furrowed brow and from the corner of his eyes to the growing patch of grey at his temples. His hair had receded more in the last year and it was becoming rarer to see him without a baseball cap on his head. I found myself wondering if he and mom had the same insecurities about their appearance that I often felt. If our chin was too sharp, our noses too big, or too much weight around our hips. I tried my best to keep active. I had played on the varsity softball team at school, even went jogging with some of the girls in track. No one mentioned it, but I had certainly noticed that my hips were a bit wider than a lot of the other girls, my ass was bigger. But unlike Jenny Ambrose, I was far from developing an hourglass figure. When her breasts were practically bursting out of her top in ninth grade gym, here I was at seventeen seriously contemplating stuffing my bra before starting at a new school.

My mother seemed to be aging gracefully, rocking the curves of her Latina ancestry that didn't seem to get passed on to me. She was actually older than my dad, and while I knew she dyed the grey out of her full dark hair, she had significantly less wrinkles. And before you go thinking that my mother had less stress than my hard working father, or some other misogynistic bullshit, let me tell you that my mother was a badass lawyer in Pine Valley. It was actually her job that brought us to Dark Falls.

Three short months ago my mother and father announced that we were going to move. At first I thought they were kidding. Even Josh felt no reason to complain. But as reality began to sink in, our attitudes changed. The previous winter, Jack Benson, my father, was laid off from his job at the plastics where he had worked since before I was even born. His heart hadn't been in it over the last few years, and when they needed to shut down a few manufacturing lines, it wasn't hard for them to let him go. It was a bit harder on my father. Though not at first, I think it caught up with him a few months later, about the time we started seeing he and Mom fighting a lot more. Money was getting tighter. My mother tried her best to be supportive of Dad, even after he gave up on the job search to focus more on his real passion, writing. He was a pretty good writer, what little I have actually seen. But he has never sold a single thing he has written and when Mom got passed over for another promotion at her firm, she was getting tired of it all. So when the prospect of starting her own practice in Dark Falls just fell in her lap, they would have been idiots not to take it. I, of course, see all this now. Not so much three months ago.

Dad turned the wheel and we felt the weight of the van shift from what seemed a never ending stretch of straight highway onto an exit ramp. Another sign flew past: Dark Falls County. A second sign attempted to list attractions and services ahead but it seemed the sign-maker forgot to fill in the empty boxes at the bottom of the green sign. It didn't surprise me that there would be little to list on the sign as I couldn't even recall a gas station on our last visit.

A sudden chill went up my spine. I checked the air vent to make sure the AC wasn't blowing on my arm where goosebumps spread across my skin. The air was off. I looked out the window at the fallen leaves under bare trees scratching and reaching over the narrowing road. Clouds gathered overhead, casting the landscape into a dismal grey rather than the vibrant autumn colors of a New England fall. Perhaps it was getting colder out, or I was just remembering how much I didn't like Dark Falls.

The quaint town looked like it hadn't changed much in a hundred years. It had a small town center with glass fronted shops and even a white-steepled church overlooking a bricked town square. A gazebo, white paint flaking off ancient wood, marked the very center of town. From there a few small streets snaked off into the hills, where the town was surrounded by a spattering of neighborhoods. When all the world was growing, it didn't look like the population of Dark Falls had risen in decades.

We drove down Main Street, passing the office that Mom would take over with her new practice. We passed an honest-to-God general store! How many towns had general stores anymore? Near the town square, across from that hideous gazebo was the realtor agent's office. The plain sign out front stating simply, Dark Falls Realty. I shivered again, a knot twisting in my stomach.

The road narrowed between the old buildings before we suddenly left the town behind, the van climbing a hill into our neighborhood. Everyone in the van jumped when suddenly PD barked, the sound nearly deafening in the enclosed vehicle. The dog stood on Josh's lap as he stared out the window. Josh and I followed his gaze toward the town's cemetery. An ancient graveyard enveloped by old rotting trees that looked like something out of a Halloween decoration. Josh held the dog close to his body, looking over at me with concerned eyes.

We practically sighed with relief as Dad turned the van, moving the graveyard out of view. Josh and the dog visibly relaxed, but I didn't. The van eased to a stop in front of a massive house set back in the lot with a cracked walkway leading up to its red door.

It looked like a mansion compared to our old house. Tall dark brick seemed to jut out of the gentle slope of the graying lawn. Looking at it again, I still felt unease. Like there was something wrong with the old building. Unsquared angles, roof slopping angrily over rows of black shuttered windows. But whenever I would stare at some detail that seemed off, it was as if it righted itself before my eyes could fully focus on it. The walls were straight, the roof was no more sharply angled than any other house. Perhaps I was just seeing things. Or perhaps I was just letting things get to me. I really didn't want to move.

"I forgot how dark it was," I muttered, staring up at the gnarled pair of trees that bent over the front of the house, framing it with twisting bare branches. It was August, so I shouldn't have been surprised by the naked trees, their brown leaves crunching under our feet as we exited the car and made our way up the walk.

Mom's sedan was parked on the gravel driveway next to the house, left there after one of the many trips her and my father made in the last few weeks. Clumps of weeds poked up from the gravel driveway and between the cracked stones of the front walk. An overgrown flowerbed poured out weeds onto patchy brown lawn. Standing right in front of the house again I could feel the unease in my stomach. I thought I was going to throw up. This house was creepy. Like something out of a V.C. Andrews novel. I hated it from the first time I had seen it, and I wasn't feeling any better about it then.

"Welcome home Benson family!"

The voice made me jump, and recognizing it didn't make me feel any better.

"Mr. Dawes," my father said moving across the driveway to shake the hand of a man who seemed far too good at popping up out of nowhere, "so good to see you again."

My mother joined my dad in shaking the man's hand, Josh stood idly by, his attention sharply kept on PD as the dog sniffed around the weeds at the end of his leash.

"Everything okay?" Mr. Dawes asked. I looked up to see the man staring at me, realizing he was talking to me. God, why does this creep always have to talk to me. I felt his eyes on me, and it wasn't because of the long car ride that I immediately felt like I needed a long shower. A shit-eating grin creased his face under a pencil mustache that he probably thought made him look like Clark Gable, but really just made him look like some skeeze hanging around the mall food court.

"Josh and Amanda aren't happy about moving," Dad answered for me, tucking in his shirt. Dad had put on a bit of weight and he always seemed to have trouble keeping his shirt tucked in. I told him to not even bother, no one was tucking their shirt in anymore, but he only muttered something about looking unprofessional. On a bad day I might have let slip that you needed to have a profession to worry about that.

"Moving can be difficult," Mr. Dawes replied, taking a quick moment to smile in the direction of my mother and father before grinning at me. Then I really wanted to puke. "Leaving all your friends behind, moving to a strange new town."

Full of strange old dudes, I wanted to say.

"Moving to strange new houses that no one wants to live in," Josh stated from across the lawn where PD was digging in the leaves.

"It's an old house, that's for sure," laughed the old man, peaking up at gray sky over the house from under his broad brimmed hat. His veined hands reached for the hat as if to take it off before thinking better of it.

"Ah, it just needs some work." My dad said, there was a look of pleasure on his face, as if he was anticipating the satisfaction of fixing the old place. "And you can help me make it look great again, Josh."

Josh didn't reply but his posture slumped as if he was just told to take out the trash every night for the next month. It was a classic inaudible complaint, so much said with that stick thin little body.

"Like a lot of this town," Mr. Dawes continued, moving a bit closer to everyone, but more noticeably, closer to me, "it takes a lot of work to keep up with these old buildings. But that's where all the charm is in a house like this. A lot of beauty comes with age."

I shuddered, feeling those crinkled blue eyes on me and took the opportunity to join Josh on the lawn where PD was methodically marking every clump of weeds.

"Look how big it is Am," my mother said as I passed her. She was the only one who ever called me that. My father, brother, and everyone at school called me Mandy. "We'll have so much more room than the old house. A rec room, and a den."

I shrugged with disinterest, but it turned into a shiver as a cold breeze seemed to cut through fabric of my clothes. The clouds darkened in the sky. It didn't feel enough like fall to need a jacket. I was sweating in the stuffy van all day, but now I was freezing. I wrapped my arms around my chest, suddenly terrified if that old creep caught a glimpse of just how cold I was. Maybe it was warmer in the house, surprised by my own thought, the first time I had almost wanted to go inside. This was supposed to be home now, but up to that moment, I was desperately hoping for anything else.

"Well, here are the keys." It was a relief to not feel Mr. Dawes looking at me. I glanced over at the old man to see him handing a set of keys and a folder of papers to my mother. "It's all yours. Feel free to pop by my office any time if you have any concerns."

"Thank you so much," my father said, shaking the man's hand again.

"Jack," he turned to my mother, "Elysia, I will see you both at the Business Association party." He looked up at me. "And I hope to see you both again real soon. Welcome to Dark Falls."

I was all too happy to see that grin fade from his thin lips and watch that creep walk away.

We followed Mom up the front walk, the wooden steps of the front porch creaking under each of our feet. She slid the key into the lock on the red door and we walked into our new home. That familiar terror at the pit of my stomach returned as soon as I stepped over the threshold. Mind undecided, my body did not want to be in that house again. Not after the last time.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

A month before the big move, I found myself standing on those strange steps for the first time. The dark house looming up over me, rough angled windows staring down at me like massive glass eyes, the red door waiting like some crimson maw. It's easy to see faces in the fronts of old houses, though most of the time they end up looking a bit goofy. The gnarled tree branches scrapped along the front of the house, looking even more like the house was some giant creature scratching at its enormous brick and wood face.

Mom and Dad had dragged us, practically kicking and screaming in Josh's case, up to Dark Falls for the first time, to see the new house they were purchasing for us to live in. The drive up was long, but it was the first time it really sank in that the move was truly happening. It wasn't just a topic brought up every night at dinner. It was real. I had to leave my home in Pine Valley.

I remember the look on my parents faces as they let us out of the van, pointing at the house they were soon to buy. My father's eyes were twinkling with the potential of so many projects. My mom couldn't stop talking about the small little town and how close everything was. And neither of them would shut up about how much of a deal the house was. I thought they had both lost it. Who would want this run down old house in a tiny ass village where they only had one school. That's right. One school. Kindergarten to high school, all under one roof. It was like we were moving to the past.

"Don't you just love it?" a voice startled me, but what really made me jump was the cold hand on my shoulder. I turned to see a man in a weird old hat that kept his face in shadow, even on the gloomy afternoon. He looked like he was maybe fifteen or twenty years older than my parents. He grinned at me awkwardly, a single gold tooth standing out under a thin mustache.

"Huh?" was all I managed, slipping out from under his touch as I turned to look at the stranger.

"Hi there," he put the same hand out, offering it to me in greeting. "I'm Compton Dawes."

As if that introduction meant anything to me.

"I'm your parents realtor. The one selling this house," he clarified.

"Oh, I see. My parents are around back, having a look at the yard." Just as I said that, they both emerged from the side of the house.

"Mr. Dawes, thank you for coming to show us the house again," my father said as he approached.

"It is my pleasure Mr. Benson. How was the drive?"

"Feels shorter with every trip, the scenery sure is lovely on the way up though."

"Isn't it just," the man peered over at me, I could see his pale blue eyes like tiny pricks of light under the shadow of his large hat. "And these must be your children."

"That is Amanda, and this is Joshua," mother motioned to my brother who was just behind her with PD close by on his leash. The dog bit and snapped at the lead as Josh tried to walk with him. That dog never did like being tied up in any way.

"I don't want to move here," Josh mumbled.

"Oh you haven't even given Dark Falls a chance yet. I am sure you will make all kinds of new friends and go on all kinds of adventures with PD around the neighborhood. This place will be lots of fun." My mother was laying it on thick this time, trying so hard to polish shit.

"I already gave it a chance," he continued stubbornly. "This house is ugly and gross and I hate it."

"You haven't even gone inside yet, Josh," my father added.

"Yes," Mr. Dawes said excitedly. "Let's go in, I have the keys right here!"

The man moved toward the house and I could smell the pungent odor of some medicated cream on him. My parents followed closely behind, motioning for us to join them. Josh just dug his feet in.

"Nuh-uh," he shook his head, "I'm staying outside."

"Josh." My mother's face looked serious, but quickly morphed back to the sweet phase of a caring mother just wanting her little baby to do her this one favor. "Don't you want to come see the house? Pick out your own room?"

"No, I want to stay out here."

He looked around the neighborhood, getting a sense of his surroundings as if wanting to look at anything other than the house. I could understand why. The house was unsettling to look at. Staring at it for too long almost made me feel unwell. It seemed like something out of some other time. Dark bricks and black chipping paint. The breeze made one of the shudders move and smack against the brick. I looked up into the windows of the second storey, and I swore I saw something move just behind the yellowing glass. My eyes shot back to the front door, where both my parents and Mr. Dawes were waiting patiently. I was probably just seeing things. A reflection on the window, or a trick of the dim light through the tree branches gently swaying in the breeze.

I stepped forward, determined to be more brave then my chicken shit brother. I steeled my nerves. It wasn't because I was scare of some dumb house that I didn't want to move to Dark Falls. It was because I didn't want to leave my friends in Pine Valley. Part of me wanted to find fault in the house just so my parents wouldn't buy and perhaps even just delay our move. But I knew better than that. There had been enough discussions and arguments at home to know this was happening whether we picked this house or not.

I joined my parents just as Mr. Dawes finished asking, "how long have you lived in your current home?"

My dad paused as if to think for a moment. "About fourteen years, I think."

"The kids have lived in Pine Valley their whole lives," my mother added. "And it's the only house Josh has ever had."

My dad chuckled, "Mandy probably doesn't remember our first house in Pine Valley. Now there was a fixer-upper!"

He was right. I didn't remember the first house we lived in before moving to Holly Avenue. The vague images of gray-blue carpet and bright wood paneling hung around the back of my mind, but those could have just as likely come from old baby photos than any real childhood memory.

"It can be hard to leave all that behind." Mr. Dawes stated. My mother and father stepped through the open front door and the old man leaned in closer to me, blocking my path. "You know, Amanda," God it felt weird hearing strangers call me by name. "I have lived in Dark Falls all my life. All the way back to my father's great-grandfather, who was here when the town was founded. Maybe one day you and your children will be as much a part of Dark Falls as the Dawes have always been."

A shiver ran up my spine with the way he casually mentioned me having children. Was this creep hitting on me? Or was the town really doing a number on my head? I turned sideways and awkwardly slipped past him and into the entryway of the old house. Mr. Dawes gave another look back at Josh, but his mind was made up and he stayed outside with the dog. He wasn't going to give up that easily, even though we had both promised to keep an open mind about this move. Josh often took a lot of convincing to change his mind about something.

I tried to be logical about it. I knew we weren't doing well financially. If Mom and Dad were able to get a good price on the old house, the money saved on this place could go a long way to helping me go to college. It would be a pain to have to move for one year of high school, but I was starting to think beyond graduation. Where should I go to school? What do I want to do with my life? Would one year in some boring-ass town in a rickety old house really be so bad if I was going to be moving away to college next summer anyway? Josh still had another seven years to look forward to. He had a much higher stake in this move than I really did.

Mr. Dawes followed us into the hallway and it suddenly felt a lot narrower than necessary. I could smell that disgusting balm on him again, it seemed to mingle with his sweat, the mixture somehow worse than the sum of its parts. "Let's go into the living room, I think you will be surprised by how spacious it is, Amanda."

I don't know if it was just because he had already given this tour to my parents on previous visits, but the added attention in my direction made me very uneasy. I was very tempted to just take off and explore the house on my own, but looking at it from the inside, it was no more comforting than the view outside. This place had creepy written all over it. I don't know how any previous owners didn't decorate the entire house with taxidermy animals and photos of medical oddities, because that was just about the only decor I could picture fitting into the stranger empty building.

Despite the creep guiding us through each room, there was some charm to the house. Perhaps it was just the infectious excitement of my parents who I think were willing to overlook a laundry list of crimes for the price this house was going for. There were more rooms than I thought the house would have, with far too many closets. A much needed improvement from our current house's lack of closets, forcing me to still use the old pink dresser I have had since I was five. The room my mother had picked out for me had its own bathroom! Okay perhaps that sold it for me. No more sharing a bathroom with Josh and Dad every morning, trying desperately to get ready. The cute bay window with an old-fashion window seat were nice additions to the room, but I am telling you. As much as I didn't want to move. I would kill for my own fucking bathroom.

After that, I wanted to find something on the tour that would at least pique Josh's interests. Maybe I knew nothing about being an eleven year old boy, I would have thought Josh would have been all over this house, with its countless hiding places. But I guess he wasn't the seven year old hide-and-seek addict I often still thought of him as.

The tour ended back at the front entryway, and by the end I was a little more excited about the possibilities of this house. "Well," Mr. Dawes said glancing at his watch, "I think I have shown you everything."

"Wait, I want to take one more look at my room." My voice sounded more excited than I really wanted to let on.

"Hurry, dear," my mom said, but you could hear the grin on her face. She called after me as I raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time, "I'm sure Mr. Dawes has other appointments."

I reached the second-floor landing and hurried down the narrow hallway that lead to my new room. The house sucked, but there was certainly potential in this room. It was huge compared to my old room. I walked through the space, pointing out in my mind where I would put my bed, my desk, my small bookcase. Would I now have room to get a bigger bookcase? Maybe two, one could take up the space left by the absent dresser once I filled the spacious closet. I turned back to the door, thinking about which posters I would hang on which wall when I saw him.

Standing in the darkened hallway was young boy. Was it Josh? He seemed about that age, but I couldn't make out his features in the poor lighting. "Hey, Josh!" I called out. The figure turned and ran down the hallway. His clothes seemed strange and it looked as if his coat, a few sizes too big, was soaking wet, the long dangling sleeves dripping as he ran. Why was Josh drenched?

As the kid moved into the light at the top of the stairs, I realized he wasn't Josh. While everyone in my family sported dark, nearly black hair, this child was distinctly blond.

"Hey!" I called as I took off after him. But when I reached the stairs, the boy was nowhere to be seen. There wasn't even drops of water on the floor of the hallway. The doors were closed, and the house was silent. "Jesus, keep it together, Amanda," I said aloud.

Was I seeing things?

Mom called from the bottom of the stairs and I shook my head as if breaking a trance. I took one last look around before I slowly made my way back down the stairs. Mr. Dawes stood with my mother at the bottom of the steps, both of them looking up at me, my mother with a bit of impatience and Mr. Dawes with that shit-eating grin.

"Sorry, Mom," I said simply. "I-I thought I saw something."

"Probably just shadows," she replied. "This place is so dark, but we will brighten it up with some new lights."

Rounding the bottom of the staircase, I saw my dad was there too, leaning against the front door. "Why don't you go outside and check on your brother," he fidgeted, tucking in his shirt again. "Your mom and I have some things to still discuss with Mr. Dawes before we head back home."

I merely nodded, my mind still swimming with the image of that blond boy in the hall. Stepping out the front door and down the step, I called out, "Hey, Josh!"

There was no answer. Not even the typical bark from PD any time someone raised their voice. Stepping out onto the lawn, my heart suddenly sank when I saw PD's collar and leash lying on the brown grass.

Josh and PD were gone.

I called for Josh and then the dog. There was no sight or sound of them. Nothing save the leash still clasped to the loop of thick blue canvas of PD's collar. Had he slipped out? Did PD escape and Josh took off after him?

I ran down the gravel driveway, looking inside the car, my eyes darting back and forth down the street. The road winded down the hill toward town, a few houses sporadically dotting the way. The neighborhood seemed rather bare and spread out, each lot filled with more of a the gnarled trees.

I glanced back towards the house to see my parents and Mr. Dawes stepping outside, a concerned look on their faces, no doubt due to my shouting. "I can't find Josh or PD!" I yelled up to them from the street.

"Maybe they went around back," Dad shouted back, motioning back towards the side gate.

I headed back up the drive, careful not to slip on the loose stones as I jogged up towards the house. It was warmer by the street, but as soon as I made it halfway up the drive, I instantly felt cooler, like a cold rain cloud suddenly left me in shadow.

"Goddammit, Josh," I muttered. Why did I feel so scared. Josh had wandered off before. Why was this time any different. I stared up at the house again. The tall trees seemed to reach out over the home, shielding the building from as much light as they could. I ran past the overgrown flowerbed to the side of the front porch leading to the side gate. The old wooden fence was in desperate need of repair, or better yet replacement, as the gray boards were split and leaning at odd angles. The gate stuck and took a firm tug to free it from the slanted post it was wedged into.

The backyard was bigger than I expected looking at the front of the house. It stretched out behind the old structure, gently sloping down a hill and ending in more of the decrepit wooden fencing. Just like the front, the yard was dotted with patches of tall weeds and browning grass. A stone birdbath had toppled onto its side, the basin long dry and stained a rusty red-brown. Beyond it, I could see what appeared to be a detached garage and shed, built out of the same dark brick of the house.

"Josh?" I called out. Neither he nor the dog were in the backyard or further down the back hill, as far as I could see. I looked for footprints in the patchy grass, or signs that he had run through the yard. A gate at the very back of the yard was firmly shut and looked as if it hadn't been opened in a very long time, the simple latch corroded with dark rust.

"Anything?" my mother called to from the side of the house.

"No sign of him," I yelled back, cupping my hands to my mouth as I slowly made my way back up the hill, I felt out of breath, my chest tight, more out of worry than physical exertion.

"Did you check the car?" she sounded more angry than worried.

"Of course I did. First thing." I stopped, scanning the yard once more. "Josh wouldn't just take off in a weird town, would he?"

My mother just shot me a look that said far more than just "what do you think?"

We both returned to the front, shaking our heads at the questioning glances from Dad and Mr. Dawes.

"Where the hell could he have gotten off to?" my mother asked no one in particular.

"Maybe he made a friend and wandered off?" Mr Dawes replied unhelpfully from the front porch.

"When he doesn't get his way, Josh can be a bit of a handful," my father explained.

"Maybe he wants you to think he's run away from home," I suggested. "He's done it before."

Again I got that look from my mother and I knew to not offer any more suggestions.

"Perhaps he just went exploring and got a little turned around," Mr. Dawes supplied. He stepped from the front step, pocketing the keys, he pulled his dark broad brimmed hat from a back pocket and tugged it firmly onto his head. "Why don't we take the cars and just have a look through the neighborhood."

"That's a good idea," stated my father with a slight nod of his head.

Mr. Dawes passed by me as he move towards his car. I felt that same chill again and I could smell him, as if a breath of cold air followed him out of the house.

"Would you like to ride with me, Amanda?" he said with a that same old grin.

I tried to smile politely, saying, "no thank you," as I held back the bile and the equally acidic words I was really thinking.

I climbed into mom's sedan, she at the wheel, and my father squeezed into the passenger seat. Mr. Dawes crawled into his own car alone. Pulling out of the drive, we headed down the street in silence, each of us scanning the neighborhood for any sign of Josh or PD. Each house we passed seemed as old as the one we had just looked at, but most were in a bit better repair, each brightly painted with tidy, trimmed lawns.

I didn't see another person out. A few cars were parked in driveways and curbside, but no one seemed to be about. A small town like this, perhaps there wasn't much to do, or everyone was huddled in some overstuffed church for some day-long sermon. But it was certainly quiet. Nothing moved save the massive trees in each yard that stretched over roofs and arched over the road, ensuring there was ample shade if the sun ever came out in Dark Falls.

Maybe that's why they call it Dark Falls, I thought.

"Where is he?" Dad muttered to himself as he stared intently out of the windshield.

"I will kill him," my mother cursed. "I really will."

The phrase seemed less and less threatening the more I heard her say it over the years. We circled the block twice before heading down the next set of streets.

"There is the school," my father pointed out. I followed his finger to a large redbrick building that looked like a dictionary illustration of a school. It was archaic, with white columns on each side of its wide entrance. An American flag hung limply on the flagpole next to aged block letters on the side of the building proclaiming that it was in fact a "school". Or should I say a "schol" as one of the vowels was mysteriously absent. My eyes searched the fenced-in playground beside the school as we drove past, but it too was empty. Not a person in sight, least of all, Josh.

"Could Josh have walked this far?" my mother wondered.

"Josh doesn't walk," Dad replied, rolling his eyes. "He runs."

"We'll find him," I tried to assure them.

We turned a corner onto another tree shaded block. A weathered street sign proclaimed it to be "Cemetery Drive", and sure enough, it didn't lie. A large cemetery appeared ahead, granite headstones jutted up like white teeth along the hill surrounded my more sprawling trees. This town certainly didn't lack for old gnarled trees that look like they were drawn with a thin brush during a seizure, branches twisting and flicking out in every direction. A few shrubs filled in the empty spaces between the graves, showing the hallowed grounds age, as it was far from the well tended clean lawns of a currently used graveyard.

As we drove past, I stared into the twisting labyrinth of tombstones, and realized it was one of the brightest spots I had seen in Dark Falls. It was like a beam of pure sunlight struggled its way through the blanket of grey clouds and managed to actually shine there. The only ray of sunshine in the whole town was on a bunch of corpses.

That's when I saw something moving amongst the headstones. Was it that blond boy again? My mind suddenly panicked. No, it was Josh!

"There he is!" I shouted from the backseat, pointing at the graveyard.

My mother pulled over and we all piled out. "Oh thank God," she said.

"What is he doing all the way out here?" my father added.

I stepped away from the car, onto the grass of the hill and called to him. He didn't seem to react to my shouts, he was too preoccupied with running. Why was he running? It was like he was ducking and dodging between the graves. Like he was running from something!

As I ran down the hill towards him, I stopped to see what would be chasing my little brother through a cemetery.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that he wasn't running from something. He was running after something. A white blur moved between the headstones ahead of Josh. Of course, it was PD. The dog finally stopped running in the middle of the graveyard, giving Josh the opportunity to scoop him up. My brother then noticed me shouting his name, and turned toward us.

Josh got quite a tongue lashing from both of my parents as they shoved him and the dog into the sedan. Their lecture didn't end, but was merely put on pause as we pulled up to the office of Mr. Dawes after following him back into the town center. Josh was full of excuses, of course.

"PD got free of his collar!" he exclaimed. "He ran off down the road and I had to catch him! I didn't know he was going to run so far!"

But my parents weren't hearing any of it. Mr. Dawes stepped up to the car, my mother silencing Josh with the wave of her hand as he rolled down the window.

"Can you get back to the highway alright from here?" the old man asked.

"Yes, I believe so," my mother replied calmly. "And thank you again for helping us look for Josh."

"It's no problem, ma'am," Mr. Dawes leaned in toward the open window to get a better look at the boy in the back seat. "It's easy to get turned around here."

He reached into a leather portfolio case at his side and pulled out a folder of papers. My mother graciously accepted them, passing them over to her husband. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. Thank you. We will look these over and get back to you within the week."

"That would be just fine." He patted the car door as he leaned back. "Have a safe drive now."

Mr. Dawes stepped up onto the sidewalk, standing next to the glass front of his realtor offices, the painted glass proclaiming, "Dark Falls Realty, Offices of Compton Dawes." My father rolled down the window on his side, pointing out the sign.

"Compton Dawes. Now that is an interesting name." My father the writer, no doubt the wheels were turning in his head, recording the name to use in some later project. "Family name?"

Mr. Dawes shook his head gently. "Nope. I'm the only one as far as I know. No idea where it comes from, always figured maybe my parents didn't know how to spell Charlie." That grin again.

My father still laughed at his terrible joke as we pulled away from the curb.

Josh's lecture seemed to continue right where it left off. As we pulled out of the town, swinging once more by the old house one last time before we headed toward the highway. I looked out the window at the dark house, shaded by those sinister trees. And for just a moment I thought I saw the boy again in the window. The big bay window of my new room. I blinked and he was gone. It had been a long day and I was probably just seeing things. My parents slowly quieted down as Dark Falls fell away behind us and the excitement of the day caught up with everyone in the backseat as soon Josh and PD were fast asleep, and I wasn't long behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

"I just don't understand where it could be," my mother whined, craning her neck to look down the street.

"Maybe they had some trouble with the truck, or got lost along the way," my father replied. He was sitting on the wooden steps of the empty porch. The moving van, loaded to overflowing, had left our house in Pine Valley before we did and my mother was getting frustrated that it hadn't yet arrived at the new house in Dark Falls.

"I told you we shouldn't have gone with that budget mover," she reminded Dad. I had heard her bring this up more than once in the past few weeks. My parents had been arguing more and more since my father lost his job, it never got out of hand or scary or anything. It was obvious they were both stressed and running a little hot when they would argue over something as trivial as why the bacon was put in the freezer and not the fridge when the plan was to cook it the next day. Yeah. I sat through an entire argument about bacon.

"They seemed the best option for the money, dear. It's not like we had a lot to spend on the move, at least not until the old house sells."

I could tell when my dad was a little ticked off with my mother by the way he called her "dear". It had less of a charming ring to it, sounding more belittling, as he ended a sentence with the word. Leaving it flat and atonal. He had a thousand pet names for my mother, it was often rather obnoxious. But the way he trotted out "dear".

My mother never seemed to show that she noticed, but I am sure she saw it plain as day. It was something she let him have, and I wouldn't be surprised if she used it as a little reminded to check her own attitude.

"Maybe I can call their offices and see if they know anything," she stated flatly, heading back into the house.

My brother was playing with PD in the front yard, awkwardly holding a leash on his wrist while also getting the terrier to tug on a thick knot of rope that barely fit in its mouth. PD growled playfully at the game.

"Keep a firm grip on that leash, Josh," my father called out. "We don't want PD showing off his escape artist skills again."

The old wooden railing of the front porch creaked under my weight. I crossed my arms, bending over to lean on the rough wood. Like most of the exterior of the house, it looked dangerous if you didn't approach it cautiously. I tried hard not to shift my weight for fear of suddenly getting a splinter. At the old house we had an old fashioned patio swing that my grandfather had made when I was little. Without the moving van, we had no furniture to sit on, inside or out.

I watched Josh and PD play. Those two could always have a good time. I saw my brother grinning as he strained against the tugging dog. Who knew such a little thing had such a strong mouth. Whenever my father would speak to him, or Josh would just remember his surroundings, he would suddenly become sullen. A total act if I ever saw one, but in his mind, he was still trying hard to punish Mom and Dad for making him move out here.

Mom stepped back out of the red front door.

"Any luck?" I asked, not actually interested in an answer, though it would be nice to have something to sit on.

"Seems the phone company hasn't connected our phoneline yet either. Jack, I thought you were on top of that."

"I called them last week," he reassured her. "They said it would be up and running before we even moved in. I'll head down to the phone company offices tomorrow. I am sure we can do without a phone for one night."

"Maybe the phone company and the moving company didn't want to come to Dark Falls either!" Josh called out. The rest of us just rolled our eyes rather than encourage him with a response. I really do think Josh would have become less of a whiny brat if my parents spanked. All my friends' parents weren't against spanking, none of them seemed to have obnoxious little brothers. I missed my friends.

The week leading up to the move had been the worst. Carol and Amy were counselors at summer camp that year, so they had been gone most of the month. When I had to say goodbye to them in person before they left it felt less certain, more of a see you later. I had to write to them a more proper goodbye later. Kathy was still home, and we spent every waking moment we could together.

Kathy and I had been friends since ninth grade. Not nearly as long as Carol and Amy, who I had known since elementary school. But Kathy and I felt really close. Which made that last week suck even more. I think a lot of people are surprised when Kathy and I hang out together. We look nothing alike. I'm rather short, thanks again Mom, with darker skin and hair, while Kathy is a tall pale blonde. She's not the drop dead gorgeous blonde bombshell you are probably thinking of. Again, that was Jenny Ambrose, and we all hated her for it. Kathy was more the shy mousy type reminding me more of the weird girl from that Breakfast Club movie from a few years ago. That was only a year after I had become friends with Kathy and when the four of us saw the movie we laughed at the similarities. The conversation then devolved into trying to figure out who was like the other characters but I think we failed on that front. Conversations like that always unwound into fits of laughter anyway.

Kathy hung out at our house the entire day before the move. It was awkward enough because almost everything was in boxes or loaded into the truck outside or the family van. It was strange being in my old bedroom with none of my furniture. The carpet was indented with the outlines of my dresser, my bed, even the four spindle legs of my desk. Kathy and I just sat there, trying hard not to think about the upcoming move, but finding nothing else to say. We would bring up any random topic, which would eventually remind us of some ridiculous memory from our friendship, then leave us wiping our eyes as we once again remembered that the next day I would be gone.

"Sorry I am being so awkward," she said, her voice a pitch above a whisper. She chewed hard on her gum. Kathy always had gum. It was always Big Red too. I saw her go through more packs of Big Red in a day, than most smokers tossed out empty cartons of cigarettes.

"It's not your fault," I replied with a sigh. "You aren't the one who's moving away forever."

"You're not moving to China or anything. Dark Falls is only four hours away. We can still see each other sometimes. I am sure my family would let you come visit! Plus we will be going off to college soon. Maybe we can even apply to the same schools."

Kathy was shy, but she was certainly optimistic. I was going to miss that. I hadn't realized how much I relied on that optimism to get me through a rough week at school.

"Yeah," I mumbled resolutely. "I guess we can still talk on the phone and stuff. Wait - is Dark Falls long distance?"

Kathy giggled and put her arm around me. I didn't want to move away and have to make new friends. I wanted the friends I already had. School wasn't going to be the same without them. I was going to be the odd new girl with no friends. I might as well be moving to China.

"Who's going to slip me answers in math class?" I asked, my eyes tearing up as I looked at her.

"You were failing math because you were always copying off my wrong answers!" she laughed, and it infectiously sent a chuckle my way.

"It was the thought that counted," I giggled.

"Is the high school there nice at least?"

"There isn't even a separate high school. I kid you not, there is just a schoolhouse. It's like something out of Little House on the Prairies."

"Bummer," she said.

Bummer was right.

We had nothing to really talk about, but when had that stopped us before? We chatted for hours, just sitting there in my empty room. Occasionally crying, but doing a lot of laughing as well. I was really going to miss her. The phone rang and a few moments later my mother popped her head into the room to tell us that Kathy's mom wanted her to head home. We talked a little while longer, her hand in mine as I desperately didn't want my friend to go. But really it was I who was leaving.

"I am really going to miss you," I said through hot tears.

She hugged me, assuring me it would be alright and that she would miss me too. Then in that brief moment she stared into my eyes and I looked into hers. Both sets were red from all the tears. It was finally time for Kathy to get up and go. She leaned in for what I thought was another hug, but I was surprised when she closed her eyes and kissed me. Her lips were firm against mine and I could taste the cinnamon of her gum. My heart skipped a beat and then it was over.

"I am sorry," she said, standing up quickly.

I stood up and stopped her from running out the door.

"I just didn't want you to move away before I - "

"It's alright, Kathy," I calmed her. My hand left hers and I touched the side of her cheek, this time leaning in to kiss her. I had barely had any practice kissing boys, Kathy was my first girl, and it felt unlike any other kiss I have ever had.

The kiss broke and we stood there silent for a moment. Until the real world caught up with us and we knew that she had to get home. We made more promises to call and write. To try to get together for birthdays. I didn't have a car yet, but I would force my parents at gun point if necessary to get back to Pine Valley whenever we could. We hugged again and then she was gone.

I was alone in my empty room.

PD barked loudly, bringing me back to the dark shadowed porch.

The dog had dropped the knotted rope toy and was barking incessantly. He seemed to look at us and then the house and just unleash a long series of yips and barks. Josh jiggled the rope in front of the dog, trying to get his attention.

"There's nothing there PD," he said. "Stop barking."

"Can't you get him to be quiet?" I asked, my voice had a harder edge than I had anticipated, but my mind was still caught up in the memory of the night before with Kathy.

"I am trying," Josh said impatiently. "He won't stop!"

"Well you got him all worked up," Dad added as he got up from the steps, moving toward Josh and the dog. As he approached, PD turned his barks toward Dad, growling between each loud outburst.

That was strange. If there was one person in this family that PD loved almost as much as Josh it would be Dad. I had never seen the terrier growl at anyone, let alone him.

"What has gotten into you?" Dad questioned the mutt.

"I told you, Dad, PD doesn't like this place."

"He will get used to it eventually. Why don't you both go run around in the backyard, maybe he just needs off of that leash for a few minutes. It looks like our stuff won't be here any time soon, so we might as well take it easy for bit." My dad turned back to the house, his eyes on the very same spot he had just left. He grunted slightly as he sat back down, his large gut popping his shirt out of the waistband of his pants.

My mother sat down next to him. "Do you think he will ever forgive us for dragging him all the way out here?" She didn't seem completely serious, but I wondered if there was at least some part of her that was feeling guilty.

"They will both be fine. Just give it time, they will come around eventually. Mandy did. Isn't that right, honey?"

"Sure Dad," I said with half of a smirk picking up my backpack from where I had set it down after retrieving it from the car. I left the two of them on the patio, watching the street, waiting for the moving van to come. A watched pot never boils as Gran always said. So I went inside.

The house was dead silent. Empty houses were creepy enough, but I didn't think I would ever get over the strangeness of that place. A house never feels like your home until all of your familiar things are in it. But you could fill that entire house with every item I have ever owned and it would still feel a bit alien to me.

The entryway was dark, even with the windows facing right out onto the street. Those gnarled trees created far more shade than I thought. I flipped on the light switch leading up the stairs. Nothing happened. Perhaps the power company decided to join the guys from the phone company and the movers. I held on to the railing and slowly made my way up the steps, taking care not to trip in the low light. Halfway up the staircase the lights suddenly flickered to life. I jumped with surprise, not at the sudden illumination, but by the sight of movement out of the corner of my vision. I nearly stumbled up the last few steps, swearing I had just seen something take off down the hallway.

"Who's there?" I called out from the top of the steps.

There was no answer.

Poking my head around the corner, I braved a look down the hall. The lights flickered, but the corridor was empty. No sounds. No movement. What was this house doing to me. It seemed like every time I was in it I was seeing things. Maybe I was losing my grip on reality. Of course there was nothing here. This was just some dumb old house.

I walked into my new room, ignoring the flickering lights in the hall, at least they seemed to be working in this room. Old house, old wiring. More things for Dad to work on. He's gonna have a full-time job just keeping this place from falling apart, I thought. Sliding the straps down my arms, I let the pack fall halfway down my body before grabbing the strap with one hand and swinging the bag up onto the cushioned window seat. I plopped down beside it, kicking off my shoes and curling my knees up to my chest. At least my room had somewhere to sit. I looked out the window at the empty street. Dark clouds were rolling in, sapping the neighborhood of even more color, leaving the world outside seeming dismal and gray.

I missed Pine Valley already. I thought again about that kiss the night before. Kathy and I were friends. It certainly didn't mean anything. I mean, it couldn't mean anything. I had moved away. My heart fluttered in my chest. I was seventeen, to say I understood my own emotions and feelings would have been a total lie. Did I like girls? I don't know. I mean I liked boys, at least a few of them. My tastes seemed to be pretty picky on that front and it was rare that I found any guy attractive who wasn't on a movie screen or in the pages of some yellowing paperback. But I had thought about girls too. Even before that night, that kiss.

I reached into my bag and pulled out my diary. Yes, I kept a diary. More of a journal really, and if it weren't for my habit of meticulously writing things down, you probably wouldn't be reading this. At least once a day I would sit, gather my thoughts and write in my little notebook. I had filled up dozens of them over the years. It wasn't some Lisa Frank notebook, or one of those plastic pink things with the flimsy locks you could open with a bobbypin. It was just a boring Mead spiral notebook. My only requirement was that it wasn't the same color as the one that preceded it.

I chewed on end of my pen as I thought about the night before. I had tried to write about it after Kathy had left, and again on the four hour drive to Dark Falls, but still the page I had marked with the date lay empty. Slowly the words came to me and I began to put the pen to the page. I often stuck my tongue out the side of my mouth as I concentrated on filling the page with my words and thoughts, notebook carefully balanced on my knees. A flash of light caught my attention. Lightning in the distance. I could see where the clouds turned to rain over the scraggly trees across the street. It looked like it was headed our way. Hopefully the moving van wouldn't arrive for a while, unloading boxes in the rain didn't sound fun. As much as I was missing home, I actually felt somewhat content in that moment. Just me and my thoughts as the tapping of raindrops clicked against my window.

Returning to my diary, a flash of lightning, followed by the rumble of thunder vibrated through the house. The lights went out and left me in darkness.

"Dammit," I muttered setting down the notebook with the pen tucked between the pages.

A chill air filled the room, like a window had been left open before a snowstorm. I shivered, wrapping my arms around me, feeling the goosebumps spread across my skin. My teeth chattered. How the hell could it have gotten that cold that fast? I looked outside to see if the storm had somehow brought an early winter. Nothing seemed to change, it appeared to be a typical rainstorm, like a thousand I had seen, especially at this time of year. But it was certainly cold in the room. My breath fogged the glass of the big bay window.

Lightning flashed again, lighting up the entire room in a bright blue-white glow. I nearly fell out of the window-seat when I saw the reflection of the young blond boy. I spun around, expecting to see him standing right there in the empty room. But I was still all alone.

The lights flickered back to life. I was left, trying to catch my breath. Jesus fucking Christ, I thought to myself, what the hell was going on? I have never believed in ghosts or spirits. Hell, I have never really been convinced we actually have some sort of soul that goes on after we die, but I was serious starting to wonder if this house was fucking haunted.

We weren't a religious family. When I was younger we would go to church with my grandparents, and my mom and dad would sit miserably and uncomfortably in the pew. I would usually fall asleep twenty minutes into the sermon, but I at least enjoyed going to out to eat with Gran and PePaw afterwards. After they died, we stopped going. It has barely even been spoken of since. Josh went to church for the first time a couple years ago with one of his school friends, but he came home with so many odd questions that no one felt able to answer that I don't think he had any desire to go back.

I'll admit, saying I am an atheist might be too definitive, but I had never seen any evidence of the divine and stories of the afterlife seemed better suited to fantasy novels. So call me a skeptical agnostic, but until that point I had hardly really thought about it. Tony Pike took me to see Poltergeist II at the Newton a couple years ago, and I found it more laughable than anything else. In that moment, sitting alone in my strange new house, I was feeling like hauntings were anything but funny.

I turned back to the window to grab my notebook and pen. There in the middle of the window, pressed into the cold fog glass was the dripping outline of a child's handprint. I bit back a scream. Backing away from the window, I didn't look away until I could feel the frame of the door. I took off down the stairs, my feet a blur under me as I raced into the living room where Mom and Dad had finally convinced Josh and PD to come in out of the rain with the promise of a card game. They sat in the middle of the room on the hardwood floor, a pile of cards between them.

"Go fi-" Josh was in the middle of saying when I barreled into the room. All three of them looked up at me, even PD, who moments ago was sleeping, curled up next to Josh, perked up his ears.

"Everything alright?" my mother asked.

What do I say? No everything is not alright, there is a fucking ghost kid in the house and I want to go home now! I'd sound like Josh with his never ending excuses as to why we shouldn't move. Why would they even believe me. I wasn't even sure if I believed me!

"Uh, yup," I stammered. I had nothing more coherent to say. I walked into the room and plopped down on the floor next to my family. At least if I was here with them, if that ghost kid showed up, I wouldn't be the only one to see him.

My dad dealt me a hand of cards.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

The living room was much warmer than my room. Good, I thought, maybe that meant there was no ghosts around. Was I really worrying about ghosts? That was ridiculous. There was no ghosts. The house wasn't haunted. And I wasn't scared.

The card game had ended quietly with no clear winner. Like most family games we usually played until Josh got bored with it. Sometimes that was minutes, other times it was hours. I had no idea how long it had been. With no clock hung on the wall, or a watch on my wrist, I had been lost in my own thoughts during half the game and lost all track of time. It was even darker outside. The rain had turned to a mere drizzle as the gray skies shifted to dark blue with the setting sun hidden behind the storm.

Mom and Dad had given up on the moving van showing up any time that day, and were unloading the Plymouth Voyager of the few boxes and things we had brought with us. If we were going to stay the night before the majority of our things arrived, we had better sort through what we had there.

Thankfully, among the boxes that hadn't been loaded onto the truck were a few boxes of blankets, and two boxes of dishes that had been carefully wrapped in towels to protect them. It looked like we would be camping out on the floor for the night, but at least we had towels, which meant I could at least take a shower.

With the last of the boxes from the van unloaded, Mom took her sedan into town to try and find us some dinner. We had Gran's fancy china, plates and saucers fit for the finest of feasts. We just had no food to put onto those plates. Dad had found a flashlight and his mini-tool kit that he kept in the van for emergencies and was busying himself with the little things he could already start on around the house.

"I hope Mom gets pizza," Josh said, I looked up at him, only catching half of his words. He was building a tower of cards on the floor that I was surprised PD hadn't tried to jump through. Five years ago that dog wouldn't have let us even start a game on the floor before he had run off with a mouthful of the pieces.

"Yeah," I replied half-heartedly. "Pizza would be pretty good." In all honesty, I felt like we had every form of take-out in the last week. With everyone so busy with the move, neither of my parents had any time to cook. What I wouldn't give for Mom's Sloppy-Joes, or one of Dad's often overcooked steaks.

"Either of you playing with the switches in here?" my Dad poked his head around the corner.

"Huh?" we both responded.

"The lights keep flashing back here, I was wondering if you two were messing with the switches."

"We haven't moved from this spot," I said, my mind immediately going to my strange encounter on the stairs.

"Hmm," he shrugged, disappearing once again down the hall leading to the study and master bedroom.

"Hey Dad," I called, getting up from the floor and following after him. He had stopped in the middle of the hall. "Need any help?"

"Sure, that would be great!" He sounded over enthusiastic and I instantly regretted offering my assistance. He was always trying to wrangle us into helping him with his little projects. But holding a screwdriver while my Dad kept himself busy beat sitting on the floor of the empty living room.

I followed him into the largest of the bedrooms. It would become my parents' bedroom, though it was little more than an empty square room with two bare windows looking out on the dark backyard. The lights on an old ceiling fan were on in the center of the room, while the attached bathroom and walk-in closet were both dark, undoubtedly with their own sets of switches.

"Here," he motioned me over, "you're much lighter than me, and not likely to break this." He set a plastic mop bucket upside-down in the center of the room. It was clearly all he could find to stand, but he knew it wouldn't hold his weight. I wasn't entirely positive it would hold mine. He held my hand to steady me as I stepped up onto the overturned bucket. So far so good, I thought.

"Take this," he instructed, handing me a screwdriver, "now, see those little brass screws? Undo those and you should be able to take that glass globe off of the light. Perhaps it is just loose bulb."

He walked me through step by step as we removed the frosted glass shell and checked the lightbulbs hidden within. They seemed tight and any wiggling didn't seem to reproduce the flickering either of us had experienced.

"Hmm, that's strange. Well, good to know the sockets are in decent shape and knock a few of the bugs out of that old globe. Hopefully it isn't a wiring issue deeper in the house. That could pose problems down the line."

"Having buyer's remorse, Dad?" I asked playfully, returning the glass globe to the light fixture.

"Not at all," he said confidently. "We knew what we were getting ourselves into with this old place. It will certainly be a lot of work, but we just really couldn't beat the price."

"You keep saying that. What did you and Mom get this place for pocket change?"

"It almost feels like it. The market seems to be much different here in Dark Falls. Low cost of living and affordable housing. But this place was practically a steal." He helped me down from the bucket.

"Maybe it's just too good to be true," I said.

"What makes you say that, hon?"

"Well," I thought for a moment about how much to reveal. "It's not like this house is warm and inviting. I mean I think the Addams' Family had cozier digs."

"Oh, it's not that bad," he smiled at me.

"You don't find something a little off about this place?"

He shook his head.

"You're sure this place isn't - " I really didn't want to finish that sentence.

"Isn't, what?" he prodded.

"Haunted," I finished, sheepishly. I looked away, embarrassed that I had even thought it.

He pulled me close, the way he always did, as if to show that whatever it was, he was being supportive.

"Is that something you believe, Mandy? That a house can be haunted by something, or someone?" The way he said it wasn't belittling. It was a genuine question about what I thought and felt. My father had always been good with that sort of thing. I was glad I was talking to him about it, and not my mother, who was usually more calculating and analytical. She could often come off as cold and uncaring, when she was just as much trying to show you the right path. She was just more likely to point out what she thought the correct direction was, rather than asking where you think you should go. That was my Dad's tactic. Don't give answers when you push for more questions that helped you arrive at your own answers. I could see why that would occasionally drive Mom up the wall.

"I don't know," was all I could answer. I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I finally managed, "I have been seeing weird things since we got here."

"Like what kind of things?" he encouraged.

I sat down on the overturned bucket. "I saw flickering lights. Something moving in the shadows."

"It's probably just the old wiring, or a few dusty bulbs. We'll get it all sorted out once - "

"That isn't all," I interrupted. He kneeled down beside me, trying hard not to groan as he lowered himself to the floor. I continued, "I keep seeing a little boy, with blond hair."

"Hmm," he hummed in response. "Well, now that is something. And you are sure it wasn't just your brother?"

"It certainly wasn't," I told him about my brief encounter that day and the glimpses of the boy I saw on our first visit to the house. I could see my father was trying to understand, trying to be supportive, but the look on his face gave away his skepticism. "There couldn't already be someone living here, right?"

"There's no one here but us," he assured me.

"Am I just going crazy then?"

"No, of course not, hon. It has been a long couple weeks. You are no doubt tired. I am sure you slept about as poorly last night as your mother and I. Things will look better once we have some supper, and some sleep, and once our things arrive. Every new house is strange at first, it just takes time."

I looked at him incredulously, was I just seeing things because I was tired and missing home? This house was strange, I would give him that.

"I remember when we first moved into our house on Holly Avenue when you were little. You had just moved up to a big kid bed, and that would have been an adjustment enough, but for that first week you couldn't be left alone anywhere in that place without crying your eyes out. But you know what? You got used to the new smells and the different sounds in the night, and you loved that house."

Maybe he was right. I just needed to adjust. The house was different. That was all. I was jumping at shadows, getting scared by lightning and a new world of sounds and smells, just like a little kid. I suddenly felt ridiculous having been so alarmed at nothing. "Thanks, Dad."

"Mandy's scared of ghosts!" Josh giggled from the open doorway. I spun around giving him a glare that could have knocked him dead. His eyes widened and he went silent.

"There's no such thing as ghosts, Am," my mother chimed in as she entered the room. "C'mon now, before the pizza gets cold."

Supper consisted of take-out pizza, at least Dark Falls had a Domino's, eaten on Gran's fine china. It was hilarious to see how nervous Mom was to hand the fragile dinnerware to Josh, but we had nothing else to eat off of unless we all huddled around the box. And we all could have, considering there was no table to even put the pizza on. Dad made a makeshift table out of a box to at least keep the pizza off the floor where PD could get into it. Conversation consisted of Mom clarifying her position on the supernatural, despite not being in on the rest of Dad and my conversation. Josh was always content to eat pizza, but he wouldn't let the ghost thing go.

"So ghosts aren't one of your one thousand reasons for not living in this house?" I said, trying hard to not stick my tongue out at him.

"No, my reasons are real!" he replied with a mouth full of cheese and crust.

"That's enough," my dad said calmly. "Who wants another slice?"

After dinner I showered in my very own bathroom. There was no bathmat, and the shower curtain had a terrible time keeping the water in the old fashion claw-foot tub. But I stood there, hair wet around my shoulders, towel wrapped around me, sitting on the edge of the tub, just soaking in that I was in my very own bathroom. When I had told Kathy about it after our first visit to the house, she practically wept with jealousy. She had it far worse than I did, having to share her bathroom with three brothers.

I thought about home. About Kathy. I blushed when the memory of that kiss came to me. It was probably just the steam I had trapped in the room. I normally wrapped a second towel around my hair to help it dry, but we only had the spare towels and it wouldn't be fair if I took two when it came time for everyone else to shower.

I stepped out of my bathroom, into my room, to see Josh sitting on the carpet with PD. He was all dressed in his Thundercats pajamas, the red and black logo emblazoned on the oversized t-shirt.

"What do you want, Josh?" I asked, peeved that he had come into my room unannounced. I held the towel a little closer to my body.

"Um," he stammered, watching his hand stroke the fur on PD's neck. "Mandy?"

"What?" I replied, the annoyance obvious in my tone.

"You don't really think there are ghosts in this house, do you?" He looked up at me with those big innocent brown eyes that continued to sucker my parents in over and over. But his question was genuine.

"No," I lied. Well, okay it wasn't a total lie. I just hadn't made my mind up about whether or not I believed in ghosts, or if the thing I saw was even a ghost. "There's no such things as ghosts, Josh. I just saw some things because I was tired. I didn't want to move here either, and my mind was just making up things. It happens. There's nothing wrong with the house." I assured him.

He just stared at me.

"Admit it, it's not so bad. Lots of room to play, places to explore. Once all our stuff gets here, you will see." I was aping Dad's sentiments, not sure if I was trying to comfort my little brother, or myself.

"Okay," he stood up and gave me a hug. He was sweet when he chose to be.

"Okay," I said with that enough-is-enough tone that Mom often got. "Now get outta here, and don't come in without my permission. You know the rules."

He called for PD to follow him and he exited the room, kind enough to forget to close the door behind him. I closed it, suddenly wishing it came with a lock. I did my best to dry my hair with the half-soaked towel. By the time I got to trying to clean up the water all over the bathroom floor, the cloth had reached its limit. I just left it on the floor, spread out to soak up what it could as both it and the tiles dried.

I had long outgrown the matching shirt and bottoms of kid's pajamas, preferring to just sleep in underwear and one of Dad's old XXL t-shirts. It was a boring heather gray with the logo of some corporate business I had never heard of, nor had any interest in. But the well broken in fabric was comfortable against my skin. A knock came at the door.

"Come in," I said once I checked that the shirt I had worn dozens of nights before still reached down to my thighs.

"Do you want to sleep in here? Or out in the living room with the rest of us?" my mother asked as she came in.

"I think I am okay in here," I honestly wasn't sure. But I had to take my dad's word that it was just fatigue and a new house. Nothing more. There was no reason I couldn't sleep in my own room.

She brought me up some of the sheets and blankets they had packed in the van, assuring me that they had enough for themselves, and Josh had his sleeping bag. Leave it to Mom to be prepared for something like this, I thought. Always having her ducks in a row, was probably what made her a good lawyer. I at least assumed she was a good lawyer.

Making sure I had all I needed, well settled in on the carpet, right where I planned for my bed to go, she gave me a hug good-night and turned to leave. "Do you want the lights on or off?" she asked, her finger on the switch. She had started asking me this every night around age fifteen, when it suddenly seemed like my decision as to whether I was going to bed or not. Josh still had a bedtime.

I reached into my backpack and pulled out a flashlight. "Off, I think," I said noncommittally, something at the back of my mind still niggling for my attention. I clicked on the flashlight defiantly, trying my best to tell my own fears to take a hike. Mom took that as a sign I was ready for lights-out, she clicked the switch, wished me another good-night, and closed the door.

The room looked different in the dark. And even stranger as I traced its outlines with the white beam of light. There were no strange shadows cast by the flashlight as there was nothing in the room to illuminate. Even the big bay window seemed to offer little in the way of light. Which I was rather thankful for, as sleep would have been made all the more difficult until I had some curtains up.

Assured that I was alone in the room, that all was well, and reassured by the fact that I had witnessed no strange phenomena since speaking with my Dad, I slipped my legs under the blankets, propping the single pillow I had brought in the car against the wall so I could still sit up. I wasn't ready to sleep, so as per my usual nightly routine, I chose to occupy my mind with a book.

I dug through my backpack, fishing out the latest book I was devouring. I loved books. While I admit there was a number of things I didn't read, what I did, I ate up voraciously. Since I was young I loved stories. It was probably what pushed me to write down my thoughts in my diary, or even tell you this tale.

My fingers wrapped around the thick paperback, pulling it free from the pack. The vibrant orange cover already filled me with excitement and anticipation. I had discovered Colleen McCullough's generational epic The Thorn Birds, when I saw the paperback sitting on one of my mother's bookshelves. My parents had never kept anything from me. They thought that if I didn't understand a book, I would ask them, or just lose interest. So there never seemed any barriers to my reading options. When I first picked up the novel, I thought it would be exciting to read about people long ago in far away Australia. But I had no idea how much the book would suck me in. Growing with Meggie as life and love seemed to just shit on her. Her unavoidable love for the beautiful Ralph, and his frustrating devotion to the Church. I opened the well worn book to dive back into Meggie's life, as she ended her marriage with Luke. I hated Luke.

An hour passed and my anticipations were answered as Meggie finally had her beloved Ralph. And did she have him! My parents gave me the talk not long before my first period arrived in one of the most embarrassing days of my junior high life. They told me what I needed to know, the uninteresting clinical biology of it all. I got a clearer lesson in the sexuality of the adolescent male from the few boys I had gone out with, most reminded me of Luke, oppressive, obnoxious, and desperately wanting to get laid, though most claimed they would be fine with just getting to feel under your bra. The relationships in books often seemed so much better, and yet they seemed cobbled together purely out of fantasy. The long spanning story of Meggie Cleary seemed different. Somehow real. And in that moment, as I read of Ralph giving in to his passion for Meggie, my mind clicked back to Kathy. Her mousy demeanor, and the sheer guts it took for her to kiss me. Something I couldn't have done if she hadn't done it first. As I read on, I found myself not thinking about the power and beauty of Ralph, but of the tenderness of Meggie. My hand sliding down between my legs. Fingertips pressing against my panties. I had only masturbated a few times in my life at that point, but I felt the desire build up inside me, flushing against my cheeks. For once, while reading that book, I wasn't looking at Meggie as some reflection of me, the female protagonist in my own story, she took on a life outside of my own viewpoint. For all I cared, Ralph could have still been in Rome, I was drawn to this woman enraptured in her own passion. The love she wanted and felt she actually deserved.

The house settled. The startling noise suddenly returning my hand to the book. I slid down into the blankets, not ashamed, but suddenly aware of my strange surroundings. It didn't go much further than that that night, but I almost felt dizzy with excitement for this new feeling. I didn't have romantic feelings for Kathy. Really it wasn't about Kathy at all. It was about that kiss, it was about how that kiss made me feel.

I set the book aside, clicking off the flashlight, falling asleep with lustful thoughts in my head.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

The next morning it was apparent that none of us slept restfully. My back ached from sleeping on the floor, my body not used to doing without my plush mattress. Dad looked the worst for wear, like he hadn't seen an hour of sleep. I wonder if it was also because of the floor, or if his mind kept him awake, thinking of the growing list of things he needed to work on in the house. I assumed my mother didn't sleep well, no doubt she laid awake cursing the infernal moving men for not being here when they said they would. But she seemed to get by on little sleep.

Mom had stopped at a grocery store the previous night while waiting for the pizza. She bought a carton of milk, a few boxes of cereal, and some snacks. Enough to hold us through until she was able to properly resupply. We also had a few odds and ends in the fridge that had made the four hour drive in a picnic cooler, basically what was left in the fridge of our old home when we left. Not that I was planning on having a mostly empty jar of mustard for breakfast.

I joined Mom in the kitchen where she had opened one of the boxes of cereal and was pouring it into one of Gran's fine china soup bowls.

"Quisp Cereal?" I asked, quizzically looking at the faded blue box.

"I bought what they had, sorry hon, I didn't see any of the brands we usually buy," she set down the carton of milk beside me on the kitchen counter and slid over a spoon.

The cereal had an odd softness to it. Like it had gone stale. But the milk seemed fresh enough and it was enough to fill my stomach since supper, which felt like ages ago. "Think that truck will finally show today?"

"It had better," she responded, nonplussed. We both returned our empty bowls to the sink where they were rinsed and set to air dry for the next meal.

Mom brought Josh a bowl of the strange cereal to where he was barely sitting up in his sleeping bag. He wasn't too happy at the change from his usual breakfast routine of Cap'n Crunch and cartoons, but I headed back upstairs before I caught too many of his objections.

I dressed for the day. With no word on when the truck would arrive, I planned to spend the day with my nose in a book. Dad, of course, had already found things to busy himself with. When he ran out of things to work on in the house with the limited tools and supplies he had on hand, he went out to the old brick garage behind the house to see what he could find. Mom spent much of the morning trying to juggle between cleaning and entertaining Josh who seemed hopeless without his toys, television, or friends. Eventually she got tired and sent him out into the backyard to play with PD.

I grabbed a glass of milk, finishing up the carton, and headed back to my room. Settling into my window-seat I stared out into the neighborhood. It looked less stormy, good news if the moving truck was finally coming, but the sky was still filled with gray clouds. I really did start to wonder if the sun ever did shine in Dark Falls. A gentle breeze rocked the tree just outside my window, making the finger-like branches wave an unwelcoming hello and sending fallen leaves scattering down the street.

I opened The Thorn Birds, excited to dive back in, though somewhat nervous about the story getting as hot and heavy as it had the night before. As was my habit, I got lost in the book. Losing all sense of time. At some point, I had finished the glass of milk and pulled the blanket and pillow from the floor to make myself even more comfortable. Chapter after chapter went by. As Meggie aged and the story moved on to her growing children, I decided to take a break. Standing up and stretching before heading to the bathroom. I could have easily just kept reading and taken the book in there with me, but then I thought better of it, giving my eyes a moment to rest.

When I returned, I decided to take a few minutes to write in my diary. Part of me wanted to document the thoughts and feelings still whirling at the back of my mind. Notebook propped on my bent knees, I quickly began scribbling away at the page, when I suddenly heard what sounded like knocking at the door.

"Yes?" I called. There was no response.

I stood up, shrugging off the blanket and walking across the bare room to the door. I opened the door, only to find the hallway empty. I stepped out of the room, listening for anyone around. Maybe I was just hearing things. Or it was merely the house settling. The old building sure had an obnoxious way of making itself known. I returned to my perch, trying to regain my thoughts, when the knocking came again.

"Come in," I said, deciding not to get up this time.

No one entered.

Another knock. But this time I noticed the sound wasn't coming from the door to my room, but the closet. I waited, not moving. Not breathing. The knock came again, and I could see the closet door moving slightly on its hinges. I rushed to the door and swung it open, expecting to see Josh jumping out to say, "boo".

The closet was empty. No one was there. No clothes hung from the bars to obscure my view. It was an empty box with boring white walls and a bare lightbulb with a dangling chain to turn it on. What the hell, I thought. I was getting rather sick of this. Either I was completely going crazy, or this house had it in for me.

I left the closet door open and turned back to my seat at the window. As I reached for my diary, the cushions of the window-seat suddenly flung into the air, the entire window-seat opening up to reveal a billowing white figure.

"Whaaaaa!" the apparition howled.

"Fuck!" I screamed, tripping over my own feet and falling backwards onto my ass.

Josh pulled the white sheet from his head, laughing heartily as he crawled out of the storage space in the window-seat. "I got you so good! Told you you were afraid of ghosts!"

"God dammit, Josh! I am going to kill you, you little brat," I screamed at him, pulling myself to my feet, I chased him from the room. His feet skittered down the hall, thumping down the steps, managing to stay just a few feet ahead of my grasp.

"What in the world is going on?" my mother emerged as Josh flew by, leaving me to nearly collide with her in the front entryway.

"That little turd was hiding in my room and scared the hell out of me," I tried to explain.

Josh whined, "Mom, Mandy said the f-word and tried to hit me."

Ugh, that little punk.

"Mandy," my mother looked at me with that disappointment glare, "I told you to watch your language around your little brother." She turned back to Josh. "And I told you to stay out of your sister's room. Now, can both of you stay out of my hair for five minutes?"

She pinched her temples as she walked away. I stuck out my tongue at Josh. He returned the gesture. Childish, I know, but in the moment it seemed right. I went back upstairs to return to my book.

Replacing the lid of the storage compartment, and returning the cushions to their rightful places, I sat back down on the window-seat. I picked up the paperback, staring at its orange cover. My eyes losing focus on the big red 'O' in the center. A smile creased my lips as I set the book back onto the cushion. I had something much better to do with my afternoon.

I was going to get Josh back.

It didn't take me long to come up with a plan. It was going to be perfect, the trick was going to be getting Josh to come into the room. I had to wait for just the right opportunity. But first a little planning. I closed the door to the room as I readied everything. It took the better part of an hour before I heard Josh out in the hall. He was only starting to explore the house, finally checking out the room down the hall that would be his. And in case you are wondering, no, he didn't have his own bathroom. He had to use the one at the top of the stairs. It was just as he was coming out of the bathroom that I took my chance.

"No! Stay back," I cried, I'm no actress. I was a terrible munchkin in our school's production of Wizard of Oz, but the extra credits were worth the embarrassment. "Stay out of our house!"

Josh came barreling into the room, right on cue. I listened as he looked around, picturing the confusion on his face as he saw my few personal belongings strewn across the room, the wide bay windows flung open to the cool autumn wind. And I was nowhere to be found. I could hear him creeping hesitantly to look in the closet, the door wide open to reveal the empty space.

"Whaaaaa!" I screamed as I flung the door to the closet closed, revealing myself behind it.

Josh's eyes went wide and he yelled out in terror. He struggled to get his body to do what his brain was desperately telling him to do. Legs nearly slipping out from under him, he took off out of the room. Leaving poor PD there in the middle of my room, his spindly little legs shaking. I had no idea I was so terrifying until the dog whimpered, eyes wide with fright, shifting backwards onto his haunches. As he scittered after Josh, I saw that the mutt had left a wet spot on my carpet.

"Dammit PD!" I yelled, chasing after the dog.

I caught up with the dog just as he caught up with Josh. A sudden wave of guilt washing over me as Josh stood there crying into Mom's shoulder. Oh fuck, I thought. Of course, I had taken it a step too far, taken the low road as Dad would ultimately say. I moved up to Josh, setting my hand lightly on his sobbing shoulder.

"Damn, I'm sorry Josh," the guilt was plain of my face, "I didn't mean to scare you that bad. I just thought I would get you back."

Surprising no one more than me, Josh turned from Mom and wrapped his arms around my waist. He held me tight, burying his tear soaked face into my stomach. Geez, now I really did feel bad. The poor kid was worried about me. I scare my little brother by making him think something had happened to me. That really was low. Then I didn't just feel guilty, I felt like an absolute asshole.

As Josh's tears subsided and we easily called a truce, Mom took me aside. The talk was more than deserved, no arguments coming from me as I took in the lecture. No real parenting was necessary, I felt like an total jerk. Mom would have called it a discussion, just to be civil, but those talks were always rather one sided. I was thankful for the reprieve when my father walked in.

"The moving truck is finally here," his voice was filled with equal parts enthusiasm and frustration.

"Thank God," my mother replied.

My parents and Josh stepped out the front door, Dad propping it open as they got ready to start bringing things in. PD was secured out back, and I was left to clean up the mess in my room before I could help unload. The piss came out of the carpet well enough with some of Mom's good cleaners, I was relieved that there wouldn't be a smell, let alone a yellow stain on the floor of my new room.

Unloading the bulk of our stuff took the better part of the evening. Four professional moving men helped with the larger boxes and the major items like couches and beds. They worked as quickly as they could, taking very few smoke breaks. They seemed in a hurry, but I couldn't tell if it was because they really wanted to get out of town, or if they were worried about raising the ire of my mother. And I had just primed her up for them. My mother was scary when she was angry. She was a strict articulate kind of scary when she was angry. I assumed it helped her in the courtroom, recalling all those lawyer shows on TV where everyone yelled all the time. She said her real life was nothing like what they show on TV. Seems no one wants to watch a person do that much paperwork and reading.

It was well after dark when the emptied moving truck pulled away. Everything was in the house, but only a small fraction of it was where it was supposed to go. Guess that was as far as the money went with the moving men. My dad went out for the food this time, bringing back foil boxes of baked lasagna and garlic bread. We scarfed it down, no one talking for the entire meal, after we had worked up quite an appetite.

After dinner, the priority became getting things into Josh's and my rooms. The goal being that Josh and I could sleep in our own beds tonight. I looked forward to that mattress. My muscles ached and I was tired of hauling boxes. When we quit for the night, I scrapped the idea of a shower or even writing in my diary. My body was done and so I flicked off the lights and crashed. After the floor, the mattress felt like a cloud trying to swallow me whole. I relaxed, letting my body sink into it. Closing my eyes and giving in to sleep.

I awoke what felt like only a few minutes later. The house creaked and groaned, settling into place. My eyes wide open, I stared at the unmoving fan hanging from my ceiling. The room was dark, but enough light came in through the bay window that I could make out the piles of boxes and the child's dresser I had tried to convince my parents I wasn't going to need. My closet was an open black rectangle against the wall, partially filled with hung clothes, the light from the window couldn't quite make it beyond that threshold. I watched for a moving shadow behind the open closet door, but nothing stirred. The pangs of guilt crept over me once more and I sat up. Sighing loudly, I knew there wasn't much that would get me back to sleep any time soon. Leaving the room, I quietly moved down the old stairs, my eyes trying hard to discern the outline of each step. Making my way to the kitchen, I opened the fridge, letting the warm yellow light flood the room, aiding me in tracking down a glass and the open milk carton. I poured a glass, leaning against the kitchen counter as I drank. The untended fridge-door slowly closed, leeching the room of light and forcing my eyes to adjust again.

When I felt comfortable enough with the renewed darkness, I rejoined my bed upstairs. The bed felt comfortable. I was certainly tired from the very full day. So why couldn't I just go back to sleep. I shifted from side to side. Closing my eyes, wrapping my arms around a pillow. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my back. That's odd. Why would I be sweating, it wasn't hot in there. I tried not to think about it. But the more I tried to ignore it, the more it felt like something was moving down my skin. Crawling over my flesh. Tiny legs inching their way across my skin. I sat up with a start, my outstretched fingers clawing at my skin through the long t-shirt I was wearing. I scratched at the itch scare that my entire body was now covering in the tiny crawling insects. But there was nothing there. No bugs, no itch, no sweat. Nothing. Of course there was nothing. This was my same old bed, with soft clean sheets, in a room I had no trouble sleeping in the night before.

I laid back, trying to picture the erotic images I had fallen asleep with on the floor. The scenes of Meggie from The Thorn Birds as she gave in to passion. I yawned loudly, my mind was tired and struggling to keep up with the images I wanted my imagination to paint, and yet I still couldn't drift off. I tried counting in my head, making it well past two-hundred when I gave up. I felt like I was going to be awake forever. But I must have drifted off at some point. A light sleep, perhaps only an hour or two, because I suddenly woke again, shivering. It felt as if the heat had been sucked out of the room, replaced with a dark, damp chill. I saw that I had kicked off my sheets and blanket in the night. Guess that hour wasn't very restful. I tried to reach for the blanket, but it was as if my arms wouldn't listen to my brain. They just stayed there, limp at my sides. I couldn't move! I panicked, wanting desperately to just sit up, but I couldn't budge. It felt as if an immense weight were placed on my chest, holding me down to the mattress. Was I even able to breathe? My mind was suddenly alert, my eyes wide, my brain in a panic trying to make sure I was still taking in oxygen.

That's when I heard the whispers.

Soft voices, almost imperceptible, but as I focused, I could hear them. Tiny, frightened voices.

Who's there, I wanted to say, but I couldn't get my lips to move, or my throat to speak.

The whispers continued. I couldn't make out what they were saying, it always seemed just beyond the reach of my hearing. The voices moved, suddenly coming from the other dark corner of my room. My head shot over in the other direction. I was surprised by the sudden use of my neck, my muscles relaxing, no longer feeling like they were straining against bonds. I sat up, my eyes scanning the darkness for the source of the voices. But all had gone silent. I looked at the bay window.

The window was open. I know I had shut it when I cleaned up the room. Closing each window pane and locking it in place. I hopped out of bed, looking down to not stumble over the mountain of boxes. As I deftly maneuvered around the cardboard obstacles, I found myself in front of the window-seat. But as I looked closer at the large bay window, I was shocked to see that the window was closed after all. Each pane sealed and locked. I seriously thought I was going out of my mind. How was I going to live a whole year in this house if two days here almost had me crawling up the walls. Were my eyes just playing tricks on me? A trick of the light? It was rather dim in there.

I rubbed my eyes in confusion and fatigue. Maybe my mind was still sleep deprived. I needed real sleep. Actual restful sleep. I crawled back into bed. Sleep came quicker this time, though I had honestly wish it hadn't.

Undoubtedly dreaming, I found myself surrounded by sickly green light. The air was thick and antiseptic. It felt like I was in a hospital, but looking around, I was clearing in the old house in Dark Falls. I moved through the house, but my body felt strange. My skin felt tight. I stretched my muscles as if trying to adjust my flesh like an ill-fitting shirt. Moving down the stairs, I was suddenly assailed by the fresh smell of cooking. The aroma of meat cooking in the oven wafted through the air. I hurried to the kitchen, my stomach rumbling with hunger. Mom and Dad were there, working away at the stove, while Josh sat at the table. They all looked at me, but there was something strange about them. The way their skin hung, pallid and grey, off their bones.

"You're just in time, dear," my father said. "Sit down, dinner is ready."

I plopped into one of the seats, my usual place since I was a kid. Josh held up his knife and fork, his tongue out cartoonishly drooling in anticipation. His tongue looked like a slug, slimy and writhing from between thin parched lips. Mom and Dad joined us, placing heaping plates onto the table.

My God. The food that smelled so good, that my body ached for, was no food at all. On a silver platter, like something from a Normal Rockwell Thanksgiving, was piled high with the dismembered flesh of God-knows-who. A heart, a lung, even the carefully skinned head of a human being, the meat of its cheeks carved into drooping slices like a rare roast beef. Flayed hands filled another plate with various cuts of meat, smoked and seasoned. Even what looked like the shriveled remains of male genitalia bobbed in a bowl of broth and mushrooms.

Mom passed me a bowl, looking into it, I felt myself drool with hunger. The skinned pink flesh of a roasted dog lay steaming in the shallow bowl. The intact head of PD, complete with collar hanging there like a roasted duck. I felt my fingers pushing into the meat, sparing the use of utensils and just diving in. My hands clawed at the flesh, ripping it apart as I brought it wetly to my lips, feeling my teeth sink into it, tearing it away. I greedily reached for the flesh of the unknown man as the rest of my family gave in to their hunger. Wildly grabbing and ripping into the meat with chaotic abandon. An unholy glow in their eyes, a glint of sharpened teeth as it met red meat.

I awoke with a jump. My shirt soaked in sweat, the collar of the pajamas stuck firmly in my mouth where my teeth were wetly tearing a hole into the hem. I felt like I was going to be sick.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

"Eww, that's gross!" Josh exclaimed after I told my family the gruesome details of my dream.

"The imagination can do crazy things," my dad reassured us both as he flipped the bacon in the frying pan with a pair of metal tongs. He was in a good mood after a half-decent night of sleep and a morning breakfast that wasn't cold cereal served on fine china that he had to eat on the floor or leaning against the counter.

We sat at the table, the chairs unwrapped from their protective plastic. Mom dug out our usual dishes and the cookware, while Dad drove to the store to buy a few more essentials for meals. When he returned, and Josh was finally up, he started on the bacon and eggs. The house smelled great and the gray morning light took on a calming quality. The dream was drifting into the distant past of the night before and I was able to see the ridiculousness of it.

"Here we go," Dad stated as he set a full plate of greasy bacon and runny eggs in front of me.

My stomach did cartwheels. The images of devouring that sinister feast returned. Silly as the dream ultimately was, it had still felt graphically real.

"I don't think I'm that hungry," I apologized, gently pushing the plate away.

"Mandy's afraid her breakfast might be haunted!" Josh giggled as he stuck a fork into his yellow pile of scrambled eggs. "Ooooooh," he wailed with a childish smile.

"Hey," my mother appeared, putting her hand on Josh's shoulder until he lowered the eggy fork back to the plate. "Remember what we talked about yesterday?"

"Yes, ma'am," Josh's smile disappeared.

"I'm sorry you had such a frightful dream, Am," she consoled me, sitting down to her own breakfast. "I didn't have the greatest sleep either last night. But they are just bad dreams, nothing more. Jack?" she looked over at my father who briefly looked away from his spattering pan. "It's so damp in here this morning, we're all gonna end up with a chill. Can you check the windows today?"

"Of course," he held up the spatula in mock salute, making Josh giggle.

I thought again of the window in my room. Had I dreamed that too? What about that frightening moment where I couldn't move and I was surrounded by those voices? Were they real? Or just another product of my overactive mind. Why couldn't my imagination get carried away with more exciting and enjoyable things rather than trying to scare the crap out of me.

"A little sunshine will help dry this place right out," my father stated.

Right, I thought. If the sun ever visited Dark Falls. I looked out the window, into the backyard. The skies were, you guessed it, gray and cloudy. If Dark Falls had a weatherman, I had a feeling his job was pretty easy.

"Where's PD?" Josh asked, a mouth full of food, standing up from his chair to follow my gaze out the window.

"He's out there, Josh," Mom answered, pushing my brother back into his seat. "Poor thing didn't sleep well either and was whining to be let out early this morning. Probably out digging holes, or chasing a few of those rabbits I saw out there last night."

"You saw rabbits in our yard?" Josh asked excited. "If I catch one, can I keep it?"

"Leave the bunnies alone, Josh," I gasped. "What did they ever do to you?"

"Yes, Josh, we don't need another pet," my father cautioned, finally sitting down to his own plate of food. "And wild animals can bite and carry diseases. So look but don't touch."

"Oh, okay," Josh hunched back into his chair. He looked up at me expectantly, "so what are we going to do today?"

"How should I know?" I responded, looking at him as if he had just grown horns.

"Well, your father and I are going to continue to unpack and work on a few things around the house. It would be good to get as much done as we can while I have the time off." Mom made a sideways glance at me. "And it would be very helpful if you took Josh and explored the neighborhood. Maybe find some new friends."

"So you want Josh out of your hair for the day and I am the unpaid babysitter."

Dad chuckled, "I think she's on to us, dear."

"But I want to unpack my stuff," Josh whined. None of us were surprised.

"Go get dressed," Mom urged. "I left some clothes out on your bed. "Then you and your sister can go exploring. It'll be fun!"

Whenever Mom really wanted you to do something you didn't want to do, she always seemed to think that it would be fun, and reminding us of that fact would somehow change our minds. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't want to do the dishes, but that was before I realized it would be fun!

"And take PD," Dad called after him as Josh left the room, heading for the stairs. "Just make sure you hold on to that leash real tight."

"Can we ride our bikes instead?" Josh continued to complain, no longer in sight. His slumping pouty posture so apparent in his tone that we could all picture him as he slinked up the stairs with an exaggerated motion. He was so dramatic, that it often came out comical, undermining his theatrics.

Every day, no matter what it was, it went down the same. Josh wanted to know what was expected of him. If that somehow clashed with what he perceived in his own mind, or what he wanted to do, he would start complaining. Mom and Dad would argue with him. If he pushed it too long, those arguments would turn to threats of punishment. That I didn't mind too much. Josh being sent to his room left the house a lot quieter, and if he was really unfortunate, Mom would start assigning him extra chores. I wasn't going to complain when some of those chores came off of my list.

I waited for Mom and Dad to finish breakfast, I was able to swallow a piece of toast with minimal cannibalistic imagery interfering. After, I helped them clean up, stacking up the washed dishes onto the drying rack. As Dad and I dried our hands, I could hear Josh still arguing with Mom somewhere in the house. If I didn't pull Josh away soon, he was in for a rough day.

"Let me just get my things," I shouted. "Then we can go exploring, Josh!" I tried my best to layer on the mock enthusiasm. I wasn't particularly thrilled about having to watch over my kid brother all day, but in all honesty, it would beat unpacking boxes and cleaning the house. He didn't get it that we were being let off the hook. Given a chance to go out into this weird little town and try to find some semblance of normalcy.

I thought of Kathy. I missed my friends. Hopefully Dark Falls had teenagers more normal than would befit the town. Then again, hopefully they aren't so normal they are completely blind to real excitement and think that quiet towns where the sun never shines is the real normal. Who am I kidding, I would just be happy if there are teenagers who aren't jerks or snobs. Could I actually make real friends here? Would there even be a point if I was going to move away in less than a year?

I walked up the stairs, trying to picture the sort of weirdos this town could churn out. Then I froze.

Above me, at the top of the stairs, stood a girl, about my age with short dark hair. Her eyes were shadowed by long bangs. Her head was cocked to one side like a dog and she was smiling. Not a warm, comforting smile. A cold sinister smile of long broken teeth. Something slithered behind that haunting smile and vacant stare.

My feet felt glued to the steps. I couldn't move, couldn't take my eyes off the girl. Was it a ghost? She didn't seem transparent, but maybe that was just how ghosts looked in the movies. How would I know what some undead spirit haunting my hallway was supposed to look. She just twisted and cocked her head, staring into my eyes as if to try to discern my thoughts.

"Mom! Dad!" I finally managed to call out.

"What is it?" Dad popped around the corner of the entryway at the bottom of the steps. I looked at him, pointing up the stairs.

"There," was all I could say.

"What?" he looked confused, wrinkles creasing his large forehead. "What is it?"

"Something wrong, Am?"

I followed the sudden emergence of my mother's voice. She was standing at the top of the stairs right where the girl had been. But where had she gone?

"Th-there," I stammered, more in frustration than fear. "There was a little girl standing at the top of the stairs."

"Again with this?" my mother put her hands on her wide hips. It seemed cliché but when she did it, you know she was at her limits. "Am, I am tired of this nonsense. There are no ghosts in this house, or anywhere for that matter. Your attempts to scare your brother and the rest of us have gone on long enough. It wasn't even funny yesterday."

"But Mom, I wasn't-"

"I said enough," she interrupted. I was going to get nowhere with her. I shot a glance at Dad, there wasn't much hope there either. Were they right? Was I just losing it? I swear to this day that I saw something in that house. Though no one would believe me. I clenched my fist and took a deep breath. It was okay. I wasn't going crazy. People see ghosts all the time, that doesn't mean there has ever been any concrete evidence that they exist. There could be a thousand reasons for thinking I saw what I did. And in that moment, that was enough to hold me over. But if things continued, I didn't know how long I could keep telling myself that there was no such thing as ghosts and that there weren't two of them in that house.

If it was this house that was just getting to me, some time outside would be good for me. I got dressed, trying to find something that looked good (in case we met anyone on the walk), but wasn't too wrinkled from being shoved into a suitcase or box. I grabbed a jacket out of my bag, slipping it on as I trotted back down the stairs. Josh was there, waiting impatiently to go on a walk he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to go on. PD was attached to the leash, which to him, meant it was time for a walk. And an opportunity to piss on a dozen new things outside of the yard. He was pulling at the leash, rearing to go.

We called out our "see you laters" and slipped out the front door in to the cool grey morning. Alright Dark Falls. Show me what you got.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"We're not going back already," I told Josh sternly, not even a dozen steps from our driveway.

"But I don't want to go on this dumb walk," he pouted, trying to cross his arms, but PD pulled on the leash hard enough that Josh struggled to get his left arm to his chest.

"Look, PD wants to go exploring. Let's just go see what there is."

Josh didn't answer so much as groan loudly, taking long stomping steps, shoulders hunched over like every step required every ounce of effort.

I laughed. "You're such a dork."

"Na-uh," he argued, a big smile on his face. "You are!"

He stopped putting on the stubborn act and we began walking down the street, PD still pulling at the leash, nearly choking himself with excitement. That is, until he found some scent to follow and ultimately track down and pee on.

The little mutt kicked at the grass or dirt, as if any of it did any good at covering up his little messes. And then he would take off again, straining at the taught leash. Josh and I just looked at the furry little thing and laughed. It was a ridiculous cycle every time we had taken him for a walk.

I looked up from the dog and the street we were walking to look at the houses. They were spread far enough apart that you didn't feel like your house was built a few feet from your neighbor, close enough to look into their windows and see what they were having for dinner that night. Instead, each house was surrounded by wide yards that kept each house oddly spaced from the one next to it on the long winding street. When I first saw it, I thought it looked like they had built a regular city neighborhood, realized they only had a quarter of the people needed to fill it, so they just gave everyone a lot more space. I thought it was weird. But maybe it was just weird compared to the crammed neighborhoods of the city. It was a lot quieter in Dark Falls, that isn't always a bad thing. It would be peaceful if it wasn't still succeeding at giving me the chills.

We passed house after house as we made our way down the road. They stood like dark monuments jutting out of the rolling hills, dark window eyes staring down at us as we walked by. Heavy old trees with sprawling branches dotted the spaces between the houses. And once again, not a single person was around. Where was everyone in this town. There was obviously people living in these houses. We passed one with an old '70s station wagon parked in the drive. But we still saw no one.

PD and Josh stopped in front of me and I nearly walked into them both, my eyes everywhere but where I was walking.

"Which way?" Josh asked. I looked ahead to see that we were at a fork in the road. The street continued on to more houses, or split off, down the hill toward the town.

"I think the school is over that way," I pointed down the hill. "Want to check it out?"

I didn't really give him a chance to answer, I just started down the hill. PD came following after me, dragging Josh behind him. The road sloped even more as we left the neighborhood behind. Josh grabbed an old tree branch on the side of the road to use as a walking stick. Though he had trouble walking with it as it was too tall for him, and PD kept trying to attack the bottom of the branch every time Josh stabbed it into the ground.

The sky was still grey, but I could feel the sun rising over us. We still saw no one on the road. No cars, no one else walking. It was like it was just the three of us in that entire county. I really was starting to think the entire town of Dark Falls was deserted and we were the only family dumb enough to move there, when a boy stepped out from a hedge of scraggly bushes on the side of the road.

He seemed just as startled to see us as we were to see him. His round blue eyes soften under a mop of blonde hair. "Hi," he said simply, lifting his hand in a motionless wave.

"Hi," Josh and I answered at the same time. Josh seemed about ready to say something more when PD moved toward the boy. The dog sniffed at the old torn muddy sneakers of the kid and suddenly began barking. His lips curled back, nose wrinkled, to bare his tiny white teeth in a menacing snarl.

The kid stepped back instinctively, his hands pulling up to his chest to protect himself. Those pale blue eyes went wide again and the poor kid looked like he was about to piss himself.

"PD! Stop!" Josh yelled, pulling back on the leash. The dog danced backwards, the leash pulling him up off his front paws. Josh tugged harder and pulled the dog into his arms. He picked up the mutt and PD seemed to calm slightly.

"What the hell, PD?" I looked at the dog as if he had just stepped off a spaceship. It was so unlike him to act like that.

"Sorry," Josh said sheepishly. "He doesn't bite. He usually doesn't even bark or snarl. I don't know why he did that."

"He's been out of sorts since we moved here," I explained, as much to Josh as to the newcomer.

"It's okay," the boy said, he seemed visibly calmer now that the dog was in Josh's arms, but he hadn't moved any closer. "He probably just smelled something on me."

"PD, stop." Josh commanded, the dog squirming to get out of Josh's arms. I don't think it was because he wanted another chance at the blonde kid. PD hated being held.

The blonde boy stood there staring at the animal. His hair was short, but little waves were fighting to become out of control if the hair were any longer. His skin was pale, which didn't surprise me. I wondered if everyone one in town lacked a tan. They'd probably all melt if the sun ever came out.

He was wearing a maroon sweatshirt with some logo I didn't recognize stitched across the left breast and a pair of dirty jeans, the cuffs tattered around the old sneakers. A matching maroon baseball cap was stuffed into his back pocket.

"I'm Amanda Benson," I broke the silence. "And this is my brother Josh."

Josh set PD back onto the ground, his hands tight on the leash. The dog barely got a noise out of his throat, taking a sideways glace at Josh before buttoning his lip. PD sat down, his short tail not even wagging.

"I'm Ray Thurston," the boy said, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets awkwardly. The boy stared down at the dog, but finally let the tension out of his shoulders and relaxed when he saw that the dog was no longer interested in him. PD's tongue rolled out the side of his mouth and he panted as he looked around.

I looked at the boy as his posture loosened. He looked really familiar. But where would I have seen his face? I stared at him trying to remember. Maybe before the move? Or in some magazine? Did he look like someone on TV? It's not like we had seen anyone else since we moved to Dark Falls. And then it hit me.

"Jesus Christ," I gasped, my arm out, pulling Josh back a step with me. "It's you! You were in our house!"

"Huh?" a confused and concerned look on his face.

"You were in my fucking room!" I insisted. "Weren't you!"

By this point I was wagging my finger at him as if I were his scolding mother. Noticing this, I straitened back up, only to put my hands on my hips, just like my mother.

I waited for his response, but he just stood there, silent and confused.

"C'mon, admit it! I saw you."

"I don't understand," he ventured cautiously. "Why would I have been in your room?"

"You tell me?" my voice waivered. He had gone too long without so much as a glimmer of guilt crossing his face. I was suddenly very self conscious about the volume of my voice. Was this the kid? Had I even seen anything? Maybe he just reminded me of what I saw. Or it was all just some stupid fucked up coincidence. God, Amanda, you really might be losing it here.

"I thought I saw you," I gave in, my voice now sounding doubtful.

"I haven't been in your house in a long time," Ray said, still looking down worriedly at the dog.

"Long time?" I questioned. "So you have been in our house. And how do you even know which house is ours in the first place?"

"I heard about a new family moving here. Not many people move to Dark Falls any more. And you moved into my old house."

"Huh?" Josh spoke up in surprise. "You used to live in our house?"

"Yeah," Ray continued. "A long time ago, when we first moved here," he absently kicked at a small stone in the road. The sudden motion perked up PD's ears as he contemplated chasing after the object. Deciding against it, he sat back down, this time the faintest of wags from his stubby tail.

Josh pulled at the leash, keeping it taught between him and the dog, my brother unsure what the little mutt would do next. He looked down at his pet confused. But at least PD had stopped barking and snarling. He still seemed agitated every time he looked up at the new boy, but he seemed content to wait things out.

"Do you want to do something?" Ray said to Josh, the luminance of the idea visible on his pale face.

"Like what?" Josh asked, his voice no longer whined. A boy his age and an opportunity to play, Josh was easily losing sight of why it sucked to move here.

"I dunno," Ray shrugged. Great, what excitement.

"We could go to your house," Josh suggested. I was quickly trying to think of exit strategies. Mom wouldn't love if I just abandoned Josh at some stranger's house, but the last thing I wanted to do was hang out with a pair of children, rooting through boxes of GI Joes and Star Wars action figures.

Ray shook his head. "No, not right now," he stated with no further explanation .

"Where is everyone?" I asked, making a point to look up and down the long road for emphasis. "This town is really dead."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Maybe we can go to the playground at the school?"

"Playground?" I cocked one eyebrow, looking at the boys.

"That sounds fun!" Josh chimed in, PD stood up, his tail now wagging excitedly.

"Sure," I sighed. "But I'm getting a bit old for playgrounds."

The three of us continued down the road, Ray standing on my left, opposite Josh, still not trusting PD. The kid smelled like dirt. Not sweaty, like Josh would get when he played too long outside in the summer. But like freshly tilled soil. Like the mud and dirt caked on his jeans and clothes were thick enough to smell when he came close enough.

Josh tried to keep walking with his oversized hiking stick in one hand and the dog leash in the other, but he eventually gave up and chucked the branch into a set of bushes. Leaving PD straining at the leash to go and fetch the stick three times his size.

You could see the school, looking as boring as any other municipal building. We couldn't see the playground or the gang of kids there until we finally rounded the corner of the building. There were ten or twelve figures in the little open space by the school. Mostly boys, but there were a few girls as well. They were laughing and shouting as we approached. Two of the boys were pushing each other, playfully wrestling as only close male friends can, and obviously urged on by the giggles and smiles of one of the girls. Some of them, I saw, were close to my age, maybe a year or so younger. While a couple were closer to half way between Josh and I. The teenagers were mostly clad in jeans and dark t-shirts. But one of the girls stood out because she had short, straight blonde hair and had on a pair of green spandex tights. The stretchy exercise fabric clung to her long legs.

"Hey!" someone shouted, breaking concentration from the girl's legs. A tall boy with gelled black hair pointed at us. The gang of teens began moving toward us. A few of them giggled as if to a private joke. We stopped and watched them approach us. I smiled, waiting for them to get close enough to say hello.

PD was straining at the leash, snarling and barking his head off.

"Hey," the tall boy with the slicked back hair said, a crooked smile on his face. The rest of the gang thought this was funny enough to warrant another round of giggles. I smiled awkwardly, feeling very out of the loop. One of the other boys, gave a shorter red-headed boy with bad acne a teasing shove, nearly knocking him into me. I tried my best to stay on my feet, despite nearly getting bowled over. I looked up at the girl in the green tights. She had eyes almost as brilliantly green, and cute smile. The silver wire of a retainer glinted from under her lips as she smiled, though I could tell she tried hard to hide it. She was beautiful.

"How's it going, Ray?" a younger girl with short black hair asked, smiling at the blonde boy.

"Not too bad. Hey guys," Ray turned to Josh and me. "These are some new kids I just met. They just moved to Dark Falls."

"Oh hey!" a sleepy-eyed teen said from behind mousy-brown curtains of hair. If I were back home in Pine Valley I would swear this guy head smoked himself stupid. "You're the family that just moved into the old shit shack up on the hill."

"That's us," I agreed, half amused by the new term for our new home.

"This is George Carpenter," Ray pointed at the awkward red-head, who nodded silently, not really making eye contact. Ray then moved to the sleepy-eyed stoner, "Jerry Franklin." He continued around the circle, listing off names. "Karen Somerset, Bill Gregory..." He kept going, but in all honesty I tuned him out. So her name was Karen.

"How do you like Dark Falls," one of the girls who wasn't Karen asked.

"I dunno," I said honestly. "It's alright so far."

A couple of the kids laughed at my answer for no reason I could see. Was I sure they weren't all high as a kite?

"What kind of dog is that?" I heard George asking Josh.

Josh, holding the leash tight, proudly went into his speech of PD's pedigree, or lack there of really. George looked at the dog with an intense fascination that looked as if he had never seen a dog before.

"He's a mutt," I interrupted with my succinct summarization. Karen giggled.

She moved closer to me as the others admired the dog. PD now seemed more content with the positive attention rather than snarling at the strangers, he was happy being dotted on.

Karen was much taller than I was. She was slim, but not a stick, and I bet should would be a hell of basketball player. She seemed the type, though I wondered if her short hair got in her face, not long enough to really tie up in a ponytail. But the golden blonde tresses framed her face well. She smiled again, that awkward grin that betrayed her self-consciousness about the retainer, but her clear complexion and bright green eyes distracted from the shimmer of silver. But I kind of thought the retainer was sort of cute too.

"I used to live your house," she said to me softly.

At first, I thought I hadn't heard her correctly. I looked into her eyes quizzically.

"C'mon, Josh," Ray interrupted. "Let's go to the playground."

No one responded to Ray's suggestion. The gang grew quiet.

Had Karen really said that she had lived in our house? Was she related to Ray? They didn't have the same last name. He didn't introduce her as some sort of cousin or anything. I wanted to ask her, but before I could, she had stepped back into the circle of teens and kids.

This is when I noticed that it was a circle. A circle around me and my brother. A sudden pang of fear swept through my body. I remembered stories of gangs from the other high school in Pine Valley. Thought of the news stories of rising gang violence among teens. Drug use. Violence. Was my mind getting carried away? Was I imagining things? The teens suddenly looked very different to me. They were still smiling, even Karen and that awkward red-head George. But their grins seemed tense, sinister. Like grimacing gargoyles on an old stone church staring down at us. Watching, as if expecting trouble.

That is when I noticed that two of the teens had baseball bats. How had I not noticed that before. Of course, get distracted by the pretty blonde, don't notice the menacing teens about to bash your brains out. I looked at Karen. Her bright green eyes swept over me, looking me up and down. Was she checking me out? Sizing me up? Contemplating what I tasted like? Oh God! That dream! Now I knew my spiraling thoughts were getting out of hand, but there was nothing I could do to stop them.

The streets were silent, we were all alone out here. They'd have time to ditch our bodies before our parents even knew were missing. Why were they staring at us like that? Just stop fucking staring!

I turned to Ray, the small blonde haired boy was still next to me. He didn't seem bothered by any of this. But he also didn't return my gaze. Had he planned this? Did he lead us to them?

"Hey, guys," I try to keep the tremble out of my voice. "What's going on?"

I stole a glance over at Josh, so busy petting and soothing PD that he hadn't notice the sudden change.

The two boys with the baseball bats held them up at waist height and moved forward. This was it. This was how I would die. My eyes darted back and forth around the circle, feeling the fear clamp down on my chest until my heart beat so hard I could feel it trying to escape through my head.

The circle tightened. The teens closed in on us.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

The sky seemed darker than usual. Clouds heavy and oppressive loomed over us. There was a chill to the air, like the sky just ached to open up and drop its burden of snow upon the unsuspecting town. Josh was messing with PD's leash, trying to get the strap of canvas unwound from the dog's leg, both of them oblivious to the looming teenagers surrounding us. Ray stood there. Was he going to say something? Would he do anything to stop them from hurting us? But he remained silent.

The circle grew smaller around us, I could hear their breathing. I realized I had been holding my own breath, my lungs suddenly desperate for oxygen. I took a deep breath, readying myself to scream for help. I wasn't going down without a fight.

"Hey, kids!" came a familiar voice from behind me. Jesus Christ, it was that creep, Mr. Dawes. "What's going on?"

The group turned to watch Mr. Dawes slowly approach from the other side of the school yard, his spindly legs taking long awkward steps, an open sweater flapping around him. He looked like Mr. Roger's pedophile step-brother. That same god-awful grin on his face.

"I see you have met the Benson's," he added, waiting for a response from the gang of kids.

Did he notice the bats? Was he purposefully interfering? Trying to save us? Or was he as oblivious to the sinister circle of teens as everyone else?

"We're just about to start up a game of softball, Mr. Dawes," George Carpenter said, twirling one of the bats for effect. "Just thought we would include the newcomers, you know, before we pick teams."

Mr. Dawes laughed, it almost sounded fake, like he was trying so hard to push a laugh out of his rounded belly. Shit, could this guy get any creepier. I almost felt like we were better off with the psycho teens. "Sounds like a great way to spend the afternoon!" He adjust his broad tie, but the breeze just blew it awkwardly over his shoulder. Looking up at the sky, he pointed casually, "Hope your game doesn't get rained out."

The atmosphere around the group seemed to relax. Jesus, Mandy, keep it together. Not everything in this god-forsaken town is out to get you. Was I just jumping at ghosts again? Seeing threats that weren't really there? Had I misread the signals? I thought for sure we were about to find out what a Louisville Slugger tasted like. One minute I could feel them closing in, the next, there was no definable circle at all.

"Is that bat for hardball or softball?" Mr. Dawes continued his small talk with the kids. He felt so uncomfortable and out of his element. Did the creep have an element? Surely there was some dank dark hole he felt more at home in. He licked his thin fish-skin lips while trying to keep the wisps of white hair plastered to his skull. "Looks like a hardball bat to me."

"Hah, George wouldn't know," teased one of the kids, "He's never hit anything with it!"

Everyone laughed, including Josh. George mimed hitting the mouthy kid with the bat, a big smile stretched across his own face. Had I really imagined it all? Was there no threat? Just some kids playing around? I was never going to make friends if I spent life feeling like such a cowardly outsider. I was only going to be there for one year, like it or not, I needed to try making friends. Otherwise, what was college going to be like? Would I just hide in my dorm anytime I wasn't in class? I needed to get over my own imagination. Suck it up, have some fun. Kathy would be so embarrassed to see me now.

"How are things going with the new house?" Mr. Dawes asked, that lascivious look falling on me again, and I instantly forgot about the other teens.

"Okay," was all I managed.

"Mom and Dad are doing all the work, they just wanted us out of the house," Josh blurted out.

PD followed Josh's attention to the old man, and suddenly struck out to the limits of the leash, barking and snarling again. The kids laughed.

Mr. Dawes jumped back, then quickly tried to cover his sudden fear with an exaggerated look of disappointment. "Your dog still doesn't like me," he moved as close to PD as he was willing to dare. "Lighten up, pup."

PD responded with a toothy snarl.

"He hasn't seemed to like anyone today," I said, still not sure what had gotten into PD. Maybe he was becoming as cowardly as I was, seeing threats everywhere he turned. Heh. Me and PD had something in common, we instinctually didn't trust this town.

"Well, I am just on my way to your house to see if there was anything else your folks needed. Enjoy the game!" And with that Mr. Dawes turned on his heels and walked back in the direction he came from, cardigan flapping at his sides.

"He's such a nice guy," Ray said from beside me. I nearly jumped out of my skin, forgetting the pale little kid was there.

"Yeah, sure," I replied sarcastically, "a real nice guy."

The boy just smiled at me, guess he was too young for sarcasm.

I scanned the crowd, suddenly wondering how much the mood would change again now that the adult had left the field. I waited for the circle to reform. But everyone began walking towards the end of the schoolyard furthest from the road. They were joking around, the boys once again pushing each other, the girls giggling and laughing at the boy's stupidity. Or were they laughing at me. God, I felt so dumb. Of course they weren't trying to kill us. I really was losing it. I was making up threats now. For what purpose? To convince myself I didn't want to live here? That seems a little drastic. I hope they aren't laughing at me, I thought. It wasn't so bad, right? I didn't scream or piss myself. Could they tell I was even scared?

The playground was completely empty save us and the gang of kids on the field. The rest of the town's kids probably stayed in to watch TV, or decided it wasn't worth the risk of poor weather. A baseball diamond was jammed into one corner of the field, its outfield stretching toward the school and road. I wondered how many kids had gotten a ball onto the roof of the school? Or through a window? Wrapping around the backside of the school was the usual old welded metal playground equipment. A set of swings hung lopsided on rusted chains beside a jungle gym and monkeybars. It was all pretty typical, and serviceable, if not a little rough. But Pine Valley had its share of underused playgrounds too. Outside was struggling to keep up with MTV and Nintendo.

Josh tied PD to the chain-link fence running along the perimeter of the school grounds, far enough away that he seemed content to stop barking or lunging at the limits of his leash. Jerry Franklin took the bat from George and they quickly placed their hands one after the other up the length of the bat. Jerry's hand finished the ritual, placing his hand on the rounded pommel of the wooden bat, allowing him to pick first for his team lineup. I hadn't mentioned my softball history and love of the sport, so I was surprised when Jerry picked me for his team. I wasn't his first pick, but I was far from last, and I was a little glad that George hadn't picked me, part of me still didn't completely trust the redhead.

"You any good?" Jerry asked me after the teams were chosen.

"I do alright," I stated modestly. "Played back at my old school."

Jerry nodded with approval and put me in as shortstop. We didn't have gloves, or enough players, but for a casual game of slow-pitch, we got by.

Taking the field, I actually felt more comfortable than I had since we moved to Dark Falls. The diamond felt familiar. From one field to another, there was a comfort in their uniformity. I wasn't wearing a uniform, or even a hat, but I was already feeling part of a game I loved. As we played through the first few outs, the sky began to lighten. The sun never emerged from the clouds, but the dark seemed to break up and go on its way. We were left with the overcast grey I was coming to expect from Dark Falls.

We didn't do spectacularly, but I was proud of the double I knocked in on my first at bat. Ray was pretty quick on his feet and caught up to my midfield grounder, a slower kid and I could have brought in our first point of the game. Over the course of the afternoon, I found myself laughing and actually having fun with this group of misfits from a sleepy town. While holding my position, half shortstop, half first base (Jerry wanted more players in the field for Bill's at bat), I started up a conversation with Karen Somerset. She was on the other team and had managed to get on base with a bunt. She had a great smile. I can't even remember what we talked about in all honesty. But I remember not sounding like a complete idiot, so I must have done alright. I don't know how she felt about girls. This was new territory for me. I don't think it's something you just ask someone you just met. But how do you know?

Bill lobbed the ball hard to left field and I was overly enthusiastic when one of the younger kids leapt up and snatched it right out of the air. "That's third out!" he yelled, waving the ball in his hand as proof.

We moved infield to change the inning when I saw a bright stripe of light stretch across the dirt. The sun was actually trying to break through what remained of the clouds. Jerry whistled loudly with fingers tucked into his mouth, summoning the entire gang to where he stood halfway between the pitcher's mound and homeplate.

"We better call it quits," he stated, the rest of the group nodding their heads. He looked over at me and Josh, "We promised our folks we wouldn't be out too late today, and we all have church this evening."

Church? On a Saturday? I guess it didn't surprise me that a town this small would be religious, I was just glad they didn't invite me to go along. I had been dragged to that awkward circus a few too many times by friends back in Pine Valley. It felt early, but they all seemed adamant. They called out their goodbyes and took off running in every direction from the schoolyard. It was actually shocking how fast they could run. I pictured someone's angry father threatening them with a belt. Something motivated them to get home in a hurry.

Karen ran past me, her head down, with the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up over her short blonde hair. The sun was coming out, but the air still had the crisp coolness of autumn. "It was really nice meeting you Amanda," she called out to me as she ran, turning and backpeddling for a moment as she waved. "We should totally get together sometime."

"That sounds great! I would love that," play it cool, Mandy, don't be so eager. "Do you know where I live?"

For the second time that day, I could have sworn she had said, "Yeah, I know it. I used to live there."

I couldn't have heard that right.


End file.
